East and West
by Bookworm .303
Summary: There has long been rivalry between Mirkwood and Imladris. But when Prince Legolas pays a visit to Rivendell, he, the twins and Estel will have to swallow their mutual dislike and work together to avoid calamity.
1. Presumptions

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Note: This is a re-post of a story I put up some time ago and ran out of time for. This time it will be finished and I apologise to anyone who was left hanging.**

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Metal clashed on metal. The two elves circled each other warily, neither able to gain the advantage. They wore identical expressions of concentration and from the sheen of sweat on their skin, it was clear they had been locked in combat for some time.

The fighter on the left suddenly lunged at his opponent's weaker side, only to be expertly parried. A brief period of action followed, though neither elf gained by it. They fell back, still trapped in a stalemate.

Save for the sounds of the duel, there had been little noise in the small field. Yet now there came footsteps, swift and sure, coming ever closer.

The elf nearest to the intruder turned, distracted. It was the mistake his rival had been waiting for. A quick attack to the back and the unwary one lay on the floor, weapon wrenched from his grip. The fight was won.

Elladan scowled, trying to twist around to see his brother. "Elrohir, would you kindly remove your foot from my back?"

The younger twin complied, grinning widely. "My victory, I feel. I trust you are feeling rich, Elladan?"

Elladan did not reply, rising grumpily to his feet. Lord Elrond's eldest son was a fine elf and a credit to his father, but if he had one fault, it was that he was a particularly bad loser. He turned to the spectators.

"And you two can stop smirking."

"Us?" Estel spread his hands innocently. "As if Glorfindel or I would ever smirk. Remind me, Elladan, was it ten or twenty guineas riding on the outcome of this fight?"

"Twenty, was it not?" asked Glorfindel, a wicked glint in his eye. Elladan cast him a furious look and opened his mouth to respond. But before he could do so, a soft feminine voice broke in.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"_Nana_!" Estel was clearly surprised to see his mother down in the training area. Usually she preferred the gardens and airy rooms of Elrond's house. "What are you doing here?"

Gilraen smiled up at her son, marvelling again at how he had grown over the summer – he was over a head's height taller than his mother now. "Actually, I came to fetch you and the twins. Lord Elrond wants you."

"And just as well," laughed Elrohir, "or Dan and I would have been fighting until the end of days. As it is, I won spectacularly – did I not, Elladan?"

The older twin turned reproachfully to Gilraen, finally beginning to recover his good humour. "You see the disservice you have done me, _Naneth_? I will hear about this for months."

Gilraen chuckled. She loved it when the twins called her 'mother', despite the fact that they were many centuries older than her. Celebrían, Elladan and Elrohir's mother, had left Middle-Earth these five hundred years past and Gilraen knew that the two greatly missed the comfort and love of the maternal bond.

"My lady Gilraen, why does Elrond require his sons' presence?" asked Glorfindel, puzzled. "I understood that they were to spend the day here, practising their fencing skills. The Valar know they need improving," he added, looking pointedly at his charges.

"Should we care why _Ada_ sends for us?" murmured Elrohir to Estel. "As long as it gets us away from Glorfindel's nagging . . ."

"I heard that," retorted Glorfindel. "Rest assured, young Peredhil, you have yet to hear the end of my nagging tongue."

Elrohir pulled a face behind the older elf's back, much to Estel's amusement.

"Elrohir . . ." said Gilraen warningly.

The younger twin grinned at her. "Yes?"

Gilraen shook her head. She knew full well that her son and the twins respected and admired Glorfindel, however much they might pretend otherwise. "Come on. Your father wanted you immediately."

"All right." The twins collected their epees and cloaks and all five began the short walk back to Elrond's halls. "What does he want us for?"

It was Glorfindel who answered. "Your father has most likely received further information as to the dates of the arrival of Mirkwood's delegation. If so, you need to start looking over the previous agreements and so on."

"I had forgotten about that," admitted Elladan. "Glorfindel, is it really necessary for Mirkwood elves to come here? I cannot see that we need any help from them, when they accept none from us."

"Elladan, you know how Elrond feels about it," replied Glorfindel. "Granted, there has been little friendship between us and Thranduil's realm. But it is high time that was changed. We need strong allies and Mirkwood is well experienced in arms."

Elrohir snorted, of the same opinion as his twin. Gilraen and Estel listened to the exchange interestedly. They knew that there was little love lost between Elrond and King Thranduil, but they had never really ascertained why.

The small group arrived in the main hall. Gilraen excused herself. "Lord Elrond is in his study. I'll see you all later."

Elladan knocked on his father's door and entered, followed by his three companions. Elrond was sat at his desk poring over some correspondence while Erestor, the chief councillor, stood to one side.

The elf lord looked up. "Ah, you are here. Glorfindel too, excellent." He waved a hand. "Find yourself a place to sit, I won't be a moment."

Estel sat himself down in an overstuffed armchair, looking idly around the study. This room was one of his favourites, with its air of order and control. It gave off a feeling of certitude, that nothing could ever go wrong here. The strong reds and purples favoured by Rivendell elves gave the room warmth even on the coldest days, while a large bay window increased its size.

"Estel?"

"Hmm?" With a start, Estel realised he had been daydreaming. He flushed and dragged his attention back to Elrond. "Sorry."

Elrond smiled. "As I was just saying to your brothers, all three of you are aware that for the past few months I have been in contact with Mirkwood, looking to establish a new alliance. To this end I extended them an invitation to visit and discuss the possibility of mutually beneficial trade agreements. Today I received their answer."

"They are coming?" asked Glorfindel, leaning forward curiously.

"Most assuredly so," replied Elrond, "though only one."

"One?" interrupted Elladan, frowning. "To speak for all Mirkwood?"

"Not just any one," explained Erestor. "Thranduil sends us his own son, Prince Legolas."

"The prince?" asked Estel, his own interest stirred. "Isn't he meant to be fantastic at archery?" The young man was still clumsy with a bow, much preferring the clean strokes of the sword.

Glorfindel nodded. "I have not met him, but his skill is said to be great indeed."

"I have met him," put in Erestor. "When last he came to Rivendell, with a delegation for the council that was held many years back, when the shadow of Dol Guldur first began to grow. He is a talented diplomat as well."

"An all-round perfectionist, in fact," drawled Elrohir, a trace of sarcasm evident in his voice. His father looked at him warningly.

"Elrohir, stop that. You do not know the prince and I hope that he will be made welcome here. He is some years older than you two, but he is still of your generation rather than ours. He will arrive in a few days and before that time Erestor will take you through the main points of our history with Mirkwood. I am expecting you both to take an active part in the discussions."

Estel saw Elladan stifle a groan. There was nothing that bored the twins quite so much as the minutiae of politics.

"I will come to find you after lunch," said Erestor. "We should be able to cover a fair amount this afternoon."

The twins agreed gloomily and headed to the kitchens in search of lunch. Estel rose to follow them, but was stopped by his father.

"Hold on a minute, Estel. I would like to speak with you."

Puzzled, Estel waited while Erestor and Glorfindel left the room. He sat down opposite Elrond's desk, eyebrows raised questioningly.

Elrond sighed. "Estel, you are an adult now, in the reckoning of men. It is time you began to learn a little more of politics and the art of ruling."

Estel swelled a little at being termed an adult – in the long-lived community of elves, he was used to being treated as a child – but he did not fully understand Elrond's words. "Why, _Ada_? It's not as if I will ever need to know such things."

"Maybe not. Nevertheless, it is something you should learn," said Elrond firmly. "You will attend Erestor's lessons with the twins and then watch the discussions. It will be good experience."

Estel knew his foster father well enough to know that he would not be swayed. Besides, he was quite proud to think that the elf-lord deemed him mature enough to sit in on the talks. He got up and bowed his head deferentially. "Of course I will, _Ada_, if you wish it."

Elrond rose as well, smiling at his youngest. "Thank you, Estel. Go on then, get your lunch. Oh, and Estel?"

Estel turned from the doorway. "Yes?"

"Do not listen to anything your brothers have to say on the topic of Mirkwood elves. I fear they have been influenced by my admittedly low opinion of Thranduil, but I want a friendship between our realms, not an enmity. Please make the prince feel welcome."

"All right, _Ada_." Estel hurried down to the kitchen, wondering just what the twins would have to say about Mirkwood.

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"Arrogant, prideful . . ."

"Convinced that they need no help from anybody . . ."

"Deadly set against anyone other than their own kin . . ."

"Certain of their own abilities and unable to admit defeat . . ."

"Just generally unpleasant, really."

Estel could not help laughing as the twins summed up the main characteristics of the elves of Mirkwood. "And they are all like that?"

"_All_," emphasised Elrohir.

"Especially the royals," added Elladan.

"Now, now, Elladan. You have never even met King Thranduil or his son," interjected Glorfindel. The composed older elf was leaning against the kitchen counter, eating an apple. Had Estel done the same, he would have been shooed out of the way by the temperamental cook, but the Balrog Slayer met with no such reprimand.

"How is it that you haven't met him?" asked Estel. "Surely you were at the council that Erestor mentioned, weren't you?"

"They _should_ have been," said Glorfindel wryly, eyeing the twins. "In the event, they were somewhat indisposed at the time."

"Indisposed?"

"Trapped in a cave, not too far from the eastern borders," explained Elrohir, embarrassed. "We were exploring when the ceiling gave way and blocked the exit. By the time anyone found us, the council had ended."

"Anyone?" inquired Glorfindel. "You forget your rescuer that easily? Two weeks I was crawling around on that mountainside while your father was pulling his hair out with worry. How he managed to participate in the debates I'll never know."

"Anyway, that's beside the point," said Elladan, ignoring Estel's laughter. "Tulien's met the prince and she said he was miserable as sin – cold and unsociable, like every Mirkwood elf I have ever met. I do not see why _Ada_ wants him here."

Glorfindel rolled his eyes. "By all the Valar, Elladan, you are acting like a small elfling! How many times do you need to be told? Your father has invited Prince Legolas here to discuss new trading agreements. Trade with Mirkwood could benefit us greatly and you two are not to do anything to jeopardise it, understand?"

The older elf had been the twins' tutor since their earliest days and neither could stand up to his piercing gaze. Both dropped their heads and grudgingly agreed.

Glorfindel nodded, satisfied. Throwing away the apple core, he straightened up. "Right, I will leave you all to it. Do enjoy your afternoon, won't you?"

Elrohir scowled as Glorfindel left the room. "Enjoy our afternoon . . . hah! He knows full well we would much rather continue with our arms practice."

"I hate looking at old agreements and all the political relationships," agreed Elladan, "especially on a beautiful day like today. But it is important to _Ada_ and the experience should at least teach us a little about organising such meetings."

"I know, I know," sighed Elrohir. "I will behave myself, don't worry." He cast a jealous look at Estel. "Think of us, won't you, stuck in that stuffy room while you are free to wander as you will."

Estel shook his head regretfully. "I am afraid I will not escape that easily. Ada wants me to go to Erestor's lessons and then sit in on the discussions. He says it will be good experience, although for the life of me I cannot fathom what for."

The twins exchanged brief glances. Estel noticed it, but knew better than to inquire. The two seemed to communicate almost telepathically at times and no one but themselves could decipher the code. Still, the human wondered exactly what his brothers were thinking . . .

His train of thought was interrupted by a nudge from Elladan. "Come on, daydreamer, help us clear up. Erestor will be down in a minute."

"And the oh-so-worthy prince in a few days," added Elrohir. "Let us hope he does not intend a long stay."

A twinkle appeared in Elladan's eyes as he collected the plates. "You know, we could use this time to cut him down to size a bit . . ."

"Elladan!" said Estel. "You know what _Ada_ and Glorfindel said – we're not to do anything that may adversely affect the trade agreements."

"Oh, we would not do anything like that, Estel," said Elladan virtuously.

"Just a few tests, if you will. To see how capable this prince is," added Elrohir. "You do trust us, don't you?"

Estel could certainly recall more than a few occasions when trusting the twins had been a foolish move. On the other hand, if this Legolas was as bad as Estel's brothers seemed to think, it would probably do the prince good to be the victim of a couple of harmless jokes. Bring him down a peg or two, maybe.

The young man grinned. "I'm in."

"Excellent." Elladan winked at his younger brothers. "There isn't time now, but after our lessons we will work out a trick or two to play on our prince. He will soon learn not to underestimate Rivendell's citizens."

_Oh well_, thought Estel. _If nothing else, it will make life more interesting._

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	2. Arrival

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially those who are picking it up again – I feel extremely guilty about leaving it for so long. Hopefully time is more on my side now and I will be able to follow through until the end.**

**Special thanks to Arlindor for spotting a stupid mistake, which I've rectified!**

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Legolas breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted the end of the mountain path. It had not been a peaceful crossing, even going through the High Pass. The goblins that still lurked in the caves of the Misty Mountains were more active than usual and the prince had had one or two close calls. He was grateful to be on flat ground again, barely two days' travel from Imladris.

Imladris. Legolas could not honestly say he was looking forward to his stay. He held no illusions about his likely reception. The Noldor elves looked down on their 'less enlightened' cousins and if truth were told, the Sindar thought even less of the Noldor. Legolas was not anticipating an easy few days.

His thoughts passed once again to the young human that Elrond had allegedly adopted. If rumour were true, this 'Estel' was in fact one of the last of the Dúnedain, the heir to Gondor's long-empty throne, but the boy himself was unaware of it. Both Legolas and Thranduil were curious as to the human's precise identity and Elrond's reasons for taking him in – one of the reasons why the Mirkwood king had agreed to these negotiations in the first place.

A small smile came to Legolas' lips as he thought back to when Elrond's original letter had arrived.

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"_Adar_? The patrols have returned from the southern border . . . _Adar_? What is that?"

Thranduil was stood by the window, his brow creased in a frown. He held a letter in a tight grip, but Legolas could not make out its contents.

The king turned to his son. "This, Legolas, is a beautifully crafted letter from the Lord of Imladris, no less. He expresses 'regret that our realms have been so long estranged' and would like to invite us 'for informal discussions, with a view to forming an alliance and possibly profitable trading links'!"

"How will you reply?" asked Legolas, though he already knew the answer. Thranduil took a dim view of the Noldor, particularly the 'half-elf' Elrond.

"In the negative," confirmed his father. "We need no help from those lovers of men and dwarves. Why should we? They have left us to battle the darkness alone for too long."

Legolas could see Thranduil's point; agreed with it, to a certain extent. Even so, he felt that increased trade could not help but benefit Mirkwood. He put the point to his father.

"Benefit us how, exactly?" inquired Thranduil. "What do they make in Imladris that we should have need for?"

"They have some of the finest metal-workers in Middle-Earth," replied Legolas. "Their weapon craft is second to none."

"And what do they use that skill for?" asked Thranduil angrily. "They keep it to themselves and leave us to repel the southern shadows."

"So now they have seen the error of their ways. _Adar_, we cannot afford to lose this chance."

Thranduil sat down at his desk, thinking deeply. Eventually he looked up.

"Legolas, you are right."

The prince had not expected his father to give in so easily. "I am sorry?"

The king rose to his feet again, all traces of irritation gone. "You are right. And I would like to say how pleased I am that you have volunteered to go to Imladris."

Legolas' eyebrows shot up. "Me?"

Thranduil nodded. "Indeed. After all, I must send somebody with authority to speak for all Mirkwood and I cannot spare the time myself."

"_Adar_, you have ambassadors for that . . . diplomats, councillors, all trained for such things . . ."

The king shook his head. "As you are being trained. No, this will do you good. You need to gain experience in how to manage negotiations such as these. Do not argue, the decision has been taken. As you said, we cannot afford to lose this chance."

Legolas fell silent, hoist by his own petard. His father's words were firm and Legolas knew that debating would do no good. Whether he wished it or not, he was going to Imladris. Going alone at that, for the spiders had grown strong of late and the troops to accompany the prince could not be spared.

So here Legolas was, almost at his destination. He had been to Imladris only once before, but his impressions of its inhabitants had not been favourable. The Imladris elves were flighty, given to humour, with a general air of inefficiency that would never be tolerated in Mirkwood. Elves seemed to come and go as they pleased, with little sense of order or hierarchy.

There was of course Lord Elrond. Legolas was slightly in awe of the renowned elf, despite Thranduil's opinions. The king of Mirkwood had no great love for humans and Elrond's ancestry was, obviously, half mortal. But while Legolas distrusted men, Elrond had appeared truly wise and deserving of his reputation. Not that the prince would ever say such a thing to his father.

Night was drawing in and Legolas began looking for a place to rest. The mountains had been too dangerous to stop for long and he had not slept properly for days.

It was not an easy task. Whereas Mirkwood's forests offered any number of dry, safe places to sleep, the same could not be said of the fields and meadows that surrounded Imladris. Finally the prince spotted a series of haystacks and settled down against one, reflecting on the coming fortnight. If he made good time tomorrow, he could be there by noon the next day and then, well . . .

_We shall see_, thought Legolas as his eyes glazed and he drifted into dreams.

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"And so we find ourselves here, in an age-old mutual distrust, which will hopefully be broken by these meetings. Any questions?"

Estel shook his head, feeling as though it was stuffed with cotton. The twins looked much the same. Six days of Erestor detailing every political move made by either Mirkwood or Rivendell in the last five centuries . . . it was enough to drive a body insane.

Elrohir perked up. "That is it? The end?"

The councillor nodded, slightly offended to see the younger elf's relief. "Yes, Master Elrohir, that is the end. You may amuse yourselves until the prince arrives."

The three needed no persuading. They were up and out of the door in seconds, only to bump into Gilraen. The woman raised her hands in protection as a head-on crash was narrowly avoided.

"Good grief, slow down! Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

It was Elladan who explained. "We are sorry, we did not mean to run into you like that. It is simply that we have just been released from Erestor's clutches and we are desperate for some fresh air."

"Charming, is it not?" asked Erestor, emerging from the classroom. "I hope they did not injure you too badly, my lady."

"No, not too much," smiled Gilraen. "But I am afraid your excursion into the great outdoors will have to wait. Word has been sent that Prince Legolas has crossed the eastern borders; he will be here in little over an hour. Your father bids you to make yourselves presentable."

"We are presentable!" objected Estel. Gilraen looked at her son pointedly and he flushed. It was true that he needed to shave and comb his hair. He was also horribly aware that his clothes were not as clean as they could be.

"Estel, go and change," said Gilraen. "There are fresh clothes set out on your bed." She turned to the twins. "And you pair as well. I know there are better robes in your closets than those."

Elrohir began to protest, but his twin cut him short. Elladan whispered something that Estel could not catch, but it clearly pleased Elrohir. The twins grinned and headed off to their room. Estel followed quickly, wondering what they were planning now.

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Finally the main buildings of Imladris rose up before Legolas. The area had changed little since the prince's last visit. The midday sun reflected off the bright fountains in the grounds and illuminated every corner. Nowhere was there shadow or darkness – the high turrets of Elrond's home stood tall and proud, unthreatened by anything. For a moment Legolas found himself comparing Mirkwood unfavourably with Imladris, but stopped that thought. Imladris was pure and beautiful indeed, but it was exposed. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to lose oneself in the comfort of the trees. Mirkwood was a much more practical realm, with closer links to nature and the land than the Noldor would ever have.

The prince approached the large double doors, which stood wide open. There was no other elf in sight and Legolas was wondering what to do when a figure appeared in the hall.

"Prince Legolas! A pleasure to see you again. On behalf of everyone here, may I welcome you to Rivendell."

Legolas recognised the elf as Erestor, one of Elrond's councillors. The prince remembered him as a shrewd negotiator, quick to argue and an expert in trade laws and agreements.

The prince bowed. "Many thanks, Erestor. I am happy to once again be a guest here and I hope for a successful fortnight."

Erestor laughed. "Of course! I dare say you are quite the diplomat now – you were skilled enough five centuries back."

"Well, we shall see," smiled Legolas, a little forcedly. He disliked the immediate informality, preferring to keep others at a distance until he knew them well.

"We shall indeed, Legolas. Come, I will show you to Elrond."

The councillor led the way up various staircases until they reached an average sized hall. Legolas recalled that Elrond had always refused a throne room. The elf lord ruled Imladris by general consent and tacitly disapproved of monarchies.

There were various elves in the hall, all apparently doing something important. Elrond was stood at the end of the room, conversing quietly with two identical elves – they were presumably his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir.

But it was the human that held Legolas' attention. This, then, was the fabled Estel. The man was tall, almost six foot by Legolas' reckoning, with shoulder length brown hair and intelligent grey eyes. His formal robes were draped awkwardly around his solid frame and the prince had an idea that Estel was happier in shirt and breeches.

These impressions were gathered in a single glance and Legolas looked back to Elrond. Bowing low, he touched his hand to his heart in the traditional gesture.

"_Mae govennen_, Lord Elrond. I bring greetings from my father and our people. We are most honoured to be invited to these talks."

Elrond returned the greeting. "As are we to receive you, Prince Legolas. May I introduce my sons, Elladan, Elrohir and Estel? They will show you around and so on this afternoon, before discussions begin tomorrow."

Legolas cast a troubled look towards the twins. The two were dressed absolutely identically and the prince had no idea how to tell them apart.

"Thank you, my lord. I am most grateful."

Elrond smiled. "There is no need to stand on ceremony, Legolas. You will find Rivendell quite informal. The twins and Estel will show you to your room and then I imagine you could do with some lunch."

Legolas nodded. The twins stepped forward and invited the prince to follow them. There was something in their demeanour that made Legolas uneasy, but he could not put his finger on what. He had a sinking feeling that he would soon find out, though.

Estel followed his brothers, trying not to make his sideways glances at the prince too obvious. The blond's attire was strange to him, coloured in neutral greens and browns rather than the stronger shades of Estel's own clothes. Not only that, but Legolas slightly intimidated the man. The elf walked with an assurance and confidence that was almost imposing and Estel felt too nervous to address him.

It was only a few minutes' walk to the guest room where Legolas would be staying. The room was richly decorated with paintings and tapestries and there was a large window, set in the eastern wall to catch the sunrise.

"This is where you will be staying. All your things may be kept here," said Elladan. The prince nodded.

"Thank you."

Estel wondered at the coolness of the voice. Legolas spoke quietly, with an air of distance that did nothing to warm Estel's heart towards him.

"If you would care to divest yourself of your luggage, we can go down to the kitchens. Lunch is a fairly casual affair – we eat it as and when we please."

Legolas did not appear to be listening to Elrohir's words. He had moved over to the window and was staring outwards towards the Misty Mountains. "You have a beautiful view here."

Before any of Elrond's sons could respond, Estel's stomach growled loudly. The man blushed. "I am sorry – I missed breakfast."

A hint of a grin appeared on Legolas' face, the closest he had come to a smile since his arrival. "So it would seem." He placed his travelling bag, bow and quiver on the floor by the bed. "I am ready."

The twins exchanged glances. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable if you left those knives here, too?"

Legolas looked down to the long daggers at his waist, surprised. "Oh no. I take my knives everywhere, for I do not know when I will need them."

Elladan cast an 'I-told-you-so' look at Estel, then shrugged. "As you will," he said politely. "The kitchens are this way."

As Elladan and Legolas went out the door, Elrohir tugged Estel's sleeve. "Look at the bed," he mouthed silently.

Estel did so and soon realised what the twins had done. The bad appeared normal, but a closer look revealed what Elrohir termed an 'apple pie bed' – one folded in such a way that the occupant would be unable to climb beneath the sheets. Estel could not help grinning. After a few days of this kind of treatment, the prince would soon lose his composure.

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	3. Testing the waters

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. I wish I could respond individually, but I really don't want this story taken down just when I've finally got round to finishing it. If you do want a response, just leave your e-mail address and I'll do my best to get back to you.**

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Legolas looked at his soup doubtfully. The twins had assured him that it was a local delicacy, popular among the Imladris elves, but the prince was unconvinced. Strange, unidentifiable lumps bobbed up and down in a thick red froth and the whole was so thick that the spoon practically stood up by itself.

Still, the prince reasoned, the last thing he wanted to do was cause offence and Estel and the twins were already halfway through theirs. Steeling himself, Legolas raised the spoon to his lips and took his first mouthful.

For the first thirty seconds or so, Legolas could not taste anything. Then it hit him. His mouth felt as though it was ablaze and he instinctively reached out for his full water glass, which he drained in one swallow.

Elrohir, or possibly Elladan, cocked his head. "How do you find it, Legolas?"

The prince shot a glance at Estel, who was clearly fighting back laughter. A suspicion formed in Legolas' mind and he realised he was the victim of some sort of joke. He grinned inwardly. _I will show these Imladris upstarts._

"It is very good, thank you," Legolas therefore replied, fighting the urge to find the nearest water barrel and dunk his head in it. He forced himself to take another mouthful, doing his best to ignore the spice. Doggedly the prince ate his way to the bottom of the bowl, pretending not to notice the three horrified faces in front of him.

"You like it?" asked Elladan, or possibly Elrohir, incredulously. "But - " Estel's elbow cut the twin's words off and Legolas looked up innocently.

"But what? I thought it lovely – my compliments to the chef," said Legolas, though privately he wondered whether he would ever regain the use of his taste buds.

Elrond's sons sat stunned for a moment. Then Elrohir rose from the table. "Well then, perhaps we should show you around."

Legolas nodded, feeling triumphant despite the burning in his mouth. If that was the way things were to be, the next few days promised to be very interesting indeed.

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The four were walking up to one of Rivendell's most beautiful spots, a deep pool fed by a small waterfall. The twins and Estel enjoyed swimming there on warm days like this one and it also offered plenty of opportunities for mischief.

Elladan and Legolas were leading the way, while Elrohir and Estel lagged some way behind, talking in low voices so as not to be overheard.

"I still can't believe he ate it all! Without a single complaint!" Estel had seen Elrohir add a substantial amount of chilli to Legolas' soup while the prince's back was turned and could only guess at what the final product must have tasted like.

Elrohir grimaced, obviously irked by Legolas' failure to react. "I know, I saw it too. I do not understand it – that trick has never failed before."

"Before?" Estel looked at his brother questioningly. "Why, who else have you done it to?"

The younger twin laughed. "Oh, too many to count. We discovered it by accident, when we were much younger – barely a century old, as I recall. We flavoured Glorfindel's wine, trying to make mulled wine, like we have in the winter. But before we could taste it ourselves, Glorfindel came in with _Ada_ and poured them both a glass. Their faces when they drank it – Estel, it was all they could do not to spit it straight back out! We had never been so told off in all our lives."

Estel chuckled, unable to imagine Rivendell's serene lords coming close to spitting anything out, no matter how foul.

"Come on, you two, you can move faster than that!" called up Elladan. He and Legolas had already reached the pool and were waiting for the others.

Estel and Elrohir scrambled down the path, narrowly avoiding propelling each other headfirst into the pool. Estel paused to recover his breath, looking at Legolas. The prince seemed faintly bemused by the brothers' antics.

"Last one in the water's a cave troll!" shouted Elrohir, tearing off his shirt and boots and plunging in happily. Elladan and Estel followed suit, leaving Legolas still standing on the bank.

"Legolas, aren't you coming in?" asked Estel, dodging a splash from Elladan. "The water's gorgeous!" And it really was, thought the young human. The afternoon sun shone through the trees overhanging the waterfall, creating an attractive dappled effect. The long, hot summer had warmed the water, but it was still cool enough to be refreshing.

Legolas shook his head. "If we are all in the water, who will watch for danger?" he asked practically.

Elladan moved shallower so that he could comfortably stand. "What danger? Legolas, with all due respect, this is Imladris, not Mirkwood. We have managed to keep our realm safe from the fell beasts that roam yours."

Momentarily, Estel saw the prince scowl; then the expression was gone, leaving behind the familiar blank mask.

"Nevertheless, I would decline your offer." Legolas' voice was cooler and more remote than before, if that were possible.

Elladan shrugged, his own voice reserved. "As you prefer." He turned back into the water and Estel saw Legolas relax slightly.

Not a minute later, the twins launched a joint attack. They moved quickly out of the water, hurling themselves at Legolas. The twins' movements were not aggressive, but their intentions were very clear – to get the prince into the pool. Legolas fought back, but it was a useless enterprise. The three elves were slowly but surely getting closer to the water's edge and Estel hurriedly swam to the other side, trying to avoid the inevitable splash when they fell in.

The man's fears were not unfounded. Fighting with the combined weight of Elladan and Elrohir, plus his own bow and arrows, Legolas soon lost his footing and tumbled backwards into the deep water, the twins on top of him.

The prince emerged spluttering and struggled back to dry land. The twins surfaced a few seconds afterwards, both laughing so hard that they were having difficulty staying afloat.

Estel felt a twinge of sympathy for Legolas, though the sight of the bedraggled prince was one of the most amusing the human had seen for a long time. Estel's brothers had ducked him many a time, often unexpectedly. He knew exactly how it felt. Even so, it was difficult not to chuckle.

Legolas ignored the laughter. He had unfastened his quiver and was counting the arrows it contained. Estel could not help noticing that there were significantly fewer than there had been earlier in the afternoon.

The Mirkwood elf muttered something – Estel could not make out the words, but it sounded suspiciously like a curse – and glared at the twins.

"I imagine you consider that funny?"

"Hilarious, actually," drawled Elladan, floating lazily on his back. "You Sindar consider yourselves so above everything. Why can you not allow yourself some fun? It was only a bit of water."

"Oh really?" snapped Legolas, ignoring the question. "A Sinda I may be, but at least I am not reckless to the point of stupidity!" He yanked off his boots and strode back into the water.

Estel watched with mild curiosity as the prince dived and surfaced a minute or so later, clutching a handful of arrows. Not looking at any of the others, Legolas returned to his pile of wet belongings and gathered them up. He walked purposefully up the path, the way they had come.

"Legolas? Where are you going?" asked Estel anxiously. Elrond had specifically asked his sons to make Legolas welcome. The prince returning alone and soaking wet would land all three of them in trouble. Besides anything else, Estel was beginning to feel a little guilty about giving their guest such a difficult time.

Legolas looked back. "Up to that rock," he said, pointing. "The sun is shining there and I should be able to dry my bow. For your own sakes, you ought to hope that it is not completely ruined."

"By the Valar, not the precious bow!" mocked Elrohir. Legolas ignored him, continuing on his way. Estel looked at his brothers, worried.

"If his bow _is_ ruined . . ."

"It won't be," said Elladan confidently. "A bit of water should not harm it, just dampen the string for a while. I cannot see why he is getting so worked up over a joke."

"_Ada_ won't see it that way," pointed out Estel. "It has hardly improved relations, has it?"

Elrohir pulled a face. "He will not tell _Ada_. Legolas needs these talks to go well. He will not dare to criticise the sons of his host. You worry too much, little brother."

So saying, the elf disappeared, looking to pull Estel under with him. But Estel knew the trick of old and quickly dived, coming up directly under the floating Elladan.

Soon the air was filled with the shrieks and splashes of the brothers, while Legolas looked on with incomprehension. He wondered if he would ever understand the impulsive Noldor.

Sighing, the prince turned away, waiting patiently for his clothes and weapons to dry in the late summer sun. If his hosts wanted a fight, a fight they would get.

---------

"You have had a good day with my sons, then?" asked Elrond, smiling at Legolas. Elrohir had been right – the prince had not recounted the afternoon's events, not wanting to upset the coming talks. Still, Legolas had a sneaking suspicion that Elrond had noticed the uneasy atmosphere and he doubted that Elladan and Elrohir's choice not to dress identically this evening had been entirely voluntary. It certainly made them easier to tell apart, thereby allowing Legolas to feel more comfortable in their presence.

The prince summoned up a bright smile. "Indeed, Lord Elrond. Imladris has grown even more beautiful since I saw it last."

Elrond raised his glass, acknowledging the compliment. "I will drink to that!"

It occurred to Legolas that nobody present seemed to need much of an excuse for drinking, toasts or otherwise. He did not like to contemplate how many gallons had already been consumed by the assembled elves. The prince himself, contrary to his usual habits, had only had one glass of wine, which he had noticed with pride was distinctly inferior to Mirkwood's. Legolas was all too aware of the need for a clear head in a foreign place.

Elrond rose to his feet, slightly unsteadily. He tapped his fork against his glass for silence, which was a long time in coming. Eventually the noise level fell and the elf lord began to speak.

"My friends, we welcome here tonight a very distinguished guest - "

"Me!" called out Elladan, giggling. _He has definitely had one too many drinks_, thought Legolas.

Elrond smiled at his eldest benevolently. "No, Elladan, not you. I speak of royalty, my friends, none other than the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Thranduilion. I hope you will all help to make his stay here a pleasant one and ensure his memories of Imladris are nothing but good!"

A half-hearted cheer went up and Legolas rose to give his reply as Elrond sat down.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond, for your kind words." He turned to the rest of the tables. "As yet I have met only a few of my hosts, but over the next two weeks I hope to come to know many more. And I am sure that those I have still to meet will more than live up to the standards of those I have been introduced to."

The elves that were sober enough to follow Legolas' words put up another ragged cheer. Legolas sat down and Elrond signalled that the entertainment might begin.

A few hours later, Gilraen was helping to clear up after the party. Most of the elves had disappeared to their respective rooms, but a few had fallen asleep where they sat. Gilraen knew from experience that it was useless to attempt to wake them and she simply cleaned around the immobile elves.

"Can I help you, my lady?"

Gilraen looked up, astonished. "Prince Legolas!"

The blond elf smiled. "My lady, I am afraid you have the advantage of me."

Gilraen flushed. Like her son, she had been slightly overawed at the prince's self-possession and his rank. Unlike Estel, however, she had been sufficiently unnerved to try and avoid direct contact with Legolas.

"I am Gilraen, Estel's mother."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Surely you cannot be his mother? The age difference is too small."

Gilraen laughed. She knew that the compliment was false – after all, she looked old enough compared to the elves to be _Legolas'_ mother – but it still pleased her. She waved away the prince's offers of help.

"No, no. You should not be doing such things. You get yourself to bed – we will sort all this out."

Legolas looked at her reproachfully. "My lady, just because I am a prince, it does not mean that I cannot clean. Are you forbidding me to help?"

The humour in his eyes caused Gilraen to laugh again. "Oh, get on with you! Yes, of course you can help. On one condition, though."

The prince looked askance. "What would that be?"

"Please do not call me your lady," replied Gilraen. "My name suits me fine, thank you."

It was Legolas' turn to laugh. "It is agreed, then, as long as you call me Legolas," he said, shaking her hand. He glanced around the large banqueting hall. "Now, where do you want me to start?"

Legolas, Gilraen and the elves that had managed to stay sober soon finished clearing away the worst of the mess. The rest would have to wait until morning.

The prince turned to Gilraen. He had found, to his surprise, that he genuinely liked the woman. She reminded him a little of his aunt, whom he had been very close to.

"Good night, Gilraen."

"Good night, Legolas. Thank you again for helping. Do you know the way to your room?"

Legolas hesitated. Actually, he was not that sure. Imladris seemed to have hundreds of corridors, all leading to different places. He confessed as much to Gilraen.

The woman smiled. "Come on, then, I'll show you. My room's in that direction anyway."

Legolas willingly followed Gilraen back to his room. The journey seemed to last a long time, with plenty of confusing changes of direction involved.

"There you are," said Gilraen finally. "If you need anything, Estel is just next door. The twins' room is three doors down and I am opposite Estel. All right?"

Legolas nodded, slightly surprised to realise he was so close to the family. "Thank you for showing me the way."

"You're welcome. Good night!"

Completely on his own for the first time since his arrival, Legolas entered his room. All the prince wanted to do now was get into bed and fall asleep.

But that proved to be easier said than done. No matter how Legolas twisted and turned, no matter how he pulled and prodded the bedclothes, he could not get into the bed. Perplexed, the prince sat back on his heels. What sort of devilry was this?

Eventually, he accepted that he could not solve the problem alone. Softly he opened his door and padded across to the room diagonally opposite. He knocked timidly.

A minute or two elapsed before Gilraen appeared at the door. She had clearly been asleep and was slightly disorientated.

"Legolas? Whatever's the matter?"

"I – I cannot get into my bed," explained Legolas, more than a little embarrassed. Gilraen sighed.

"That will be Estel and the twins, Legolas, I'm sorry." She walked across to the prince's room, her way illuminated by the long white candles set into the wall at regular intervals. Legolas followed, not quite understanding what she meant.

Gilraen leant over the bed and untucked a few corners. "There you go, it will be fine now. I apologise for my son and the twins, they think that kind of thing is funny. Rest assured, I will have words with them in the morning."

"Honestly, Gilraen, that will not be necessary," said Legolas, though he doubted that his words would have much effect. "I am sorry to have woken you."

"Not at all, Legolas. Good night – again."

"Good night."

Gilraen left, pulling the door closed behind her. Legolas lay back in bed, thinking dark thoughts. He promised himself that, somehow, he would exact his revenge on these sons of Elrond.

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	4. Let battle commence, then

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

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The next morning dawned bright and clear. Legolas, accustomed since childhood to being up before sunrise, was already in the gardens, searching out the flower he wanted. It was there, the prince was sure – he had seen it yesterday, not too far from his window.

Finally Legolas spotted his goal, a bush with large oval leaves, covered by small pink flowers. Grinning triumphantly, he pulled the little brush and box that he had brought with him out of his pocket and scraped a generous amount of pollen from the flowers. His mission completed, the prince turned back.

The twins and Estel's rooms were both equipped with balconies, near which grew a conveniently situated oak tree. Nimbly, Legolas climbed the tree and easily reached the twins' balcony. He took a deep breath. This would be the difficult part.

Slowly and gently, Legolas tried the door connecting the balcony to the room. To his relief, it was unlocked and the wood elf slipped inside silently.

The room was large, almost twice the size of Legolas' guest room, with two beds and various cabinets, drawers and chairs. A small door led into a smart en-suite bathroom and a curtain was pulled across an unobtrusive alcove, which looked like it was used for storage.

Elladan was sprawled across one of the chairs, still wearing his clothes from the night before. Elrohir was in much the same state, although he had at least made it to the bed before losing consciousness. Judging by their deep and steady breathing, both elves slept soundly, which was ideal for Legolas' purposes.

The prince looked around. What clothes were the twins likely to wear today? Legolas had no idea. He assumed leggings and tunics, practical dress, but beyond that he was lost. In the end, Legolas simply dusted the pollen inside every visible piece of clothing, rubbing it in until the yellow colouring had disappeared.

Legolas worked quickly and he had almost finished when Elladan stirred, shifting in his chair. Swiftly the prince grabbed his things and left the way he had come, not wanting to be discovered.

It was only a short jump to Estel's balcony and the prince was pleased to find the human's door not only unlocked but also ajar. He walked in noiselessly and was surprised to find a relatively neat room. Legolas had assumed that Estel would be naturally untidy, though he had no real reason to think so.

The young man was still comatose. Legolas shook his head, remembering that alcohol always seemed to have a stronger effect on the mortal races. He watched Estel for a moment, wondering again at the way in which humans slept with their eyes closed, then turned to business.

The outfit that Estel was presumably going to wear was easy to locate. It was carefully laid out on a chair and Legolas guessed, correctly, that it was Gilraen's work rather than Estel's.

It took the prince only a few minutes to dust the pollen into Estel's clothes and then he retired to his own room to prepare for the day ahead. If his trick worked, Estel and the twins would soon learn that it was a mistake to challenge the Prince of Mirkwood.

-------

"Ah, there you are." Gilraen came and sat down at the table, next to Elrohir. "I've been looking for you three. I want to talk to you about Prince Legolas."

"The prince?" asked Elladan. "We have not seen him this morning."

"Glorfindel said he'd seen him going off for an early morning walk or something," explained Estel through a mouthful of porridge.

"How many times, Estel? Don't talk while you're eating," said Gilraen automatically."I wasn't going to ask his whereabouts. I merely wanted to know how you are all getting on."

The brothers exchanged glances. What to say? Finally Elrohir answered. "Fine, Gilraen. He is a bit full of himself, though."

"Fine," repeated Gilraen, nodding her head. "No problems at all?"

Estel eyed his mother suspiciously. _What is she getting at?_ "No, not really. Why, _Nana_?"

Gilraen shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, I just wondered. So none of you three would know why Legolas found an apple pie bed in his room last night, then?"

Taken by surprise, Estel choked on the last of his porridge. Once Elrohir had finished banging him on the back – a little too enthusiastically for Estel's liking – the young man looked up.

"I am sorry?"

Gilraen was beginning to look irritated, bright spots of colour appearing on her cheeks. "Don't play innocent with me, Estel, I know you too well. Did you three make Legolas an apple pie bed yesterday?"

There was another pause. This time it was Elladan who responded. "Yes, we did."

Gilraen exhaled slowly. "I thought as much. Why, for goodness' sake?"

Hoping to redeem himself, Estel tried to explain. "It was only a joke, _Nana_; he is so serious all the time. We didn't mean any harm." He could not work out just how Gilraen knew about their trick.

His mother looked disbelieving, but she let it go. "It will not happen again, do you hear?" she said, looking at each of them in turn. "Prince Legolas is very charming and well-mannered and I will not have your childish japes upset his visit. That includes you two," she added, looking pointedly at the twins.

The three murmured their apologies and Gilraen got up, satisfied. "Go and get changed, then," she said. "And for pity's sake behave yourselves!"

After she had left, Estel pulled a face. "Fantastic. So now _Nana_ has joined Legolas' little group of admirers."

Elrohir placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "Do not worry, Estel. We have plenty of tricks still up our sleeves and our precious prince cannot go running to Gilraen every time."

Estel smiled, vaguely cheered. "Really?"

"Really," nodded Elladan. "Come on, move yourself. If we do not get changed soon, we will be late and that would upset _Ada_."

"I'll race you!"

The three careered off in the direction of their rooms and Legolas' carefully prepared plan.

---------

"We cannot accept this condition. We cannot be expected to cross the Misty Mountains every time we want to trade with Mirkwood, especially when we are buying rather than selling." Erestor's finger jabbed the map pointedly for emphasis.

Elladan squirmed uncomfortably and Elrond glanced at him warningly. The elf lord had hoped that his sons would be too polite to show their boredom so openly, but apparently he had been wrong. The twins and Estel had been fidgeting distractedly all morning and Elrond could swear he had even heard some grunts from Estel.

Legolas leaned forward, intent on the discussion. If he was feeling outnumbered by the Imladris elves, it did not show in his behaviour. "But we cannot spare the elves. Enemies plague us, orcs, spiders and wargs. You know this. We need everyone we have."

"With all due respect, Prince Legolas, Mirkwood is not the only realm with borders to defend."

The prince took a deep breath. Elrond could see that Legolas was coming very close to losing his temper and the elf lord hurriedly stepped in.

"Erestor does not mean to offend, Legolas. We fully recognise the extra burden that Mirkwood bears. But it is impractical for there to be only one trade route and to have only one party travelling along it."

"I understand your reservations, Lord Elrond. Nevertheless, my earlier point still stands. We do not have the number of elves neces-"

Legolas was cut short by a muffled yelp from Elrohir, who seemed positively unable to keep still. Elrond glared at the younger twin.

"Enough." The elf lord brought his hands down on to the table, his patience at an end. "I suggest that we break for an hour and then reconvene when our heads are cleared. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel, I want to speak to you for a moment, please."

The assembled councillors began to file out, Legolas among them. Elrond and his sons waited until they had all gone.

Once the four were alone, Elrond leaned back in his chair, feeling the beginnings of a headache. The elf lord had not been particularly impressed with his sons' performance so far and he intended to let them know it.

"Well? What is going on?"

Estel wriggled desperately. "We're sorry, _Ada_, we can't help it. It's our clothes – they are really itchy, it's unbearable."

"'Really itchy'?" repeated Elrond in disbelief. "What do you mean, 'really itchy'?"

"Estel is right, Ada," put in Elrohir. "There is something in our clothes, honestly. It has been getting worse all morning."

"I think Legolas has something to do with it," added Elladan darkly, ignoring his twin's warning nudge. "He grinned at me this morning and - "

"Stop this _now_, Elladan," said Elrond, rising to his feet. "Whatever it is that you have to say, I do not want to hear it. All I ask is that you show some common courtesy to our guest, instead of which you are all three of you behaving like spoilt children. Go and wash, change into clean clothes – I believe there are some in the laundry – and come back this afternoon prepared to conduct yourselves in an appropriate manner. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, _Ada_," said the twins and Estel simultaneously. Lowering their heads, they trooped out of the door.

Elrond sank back into his chair, rubbing his temples. He hated telling his sons off like that, but really there had been no other choice. Their behaviour was plainly unacceptable.

He groaned inwardly. _Another two weeks of this . . ._

_----------_

Legolas was lying against one of the smaller fountains, enjoying the beautiful weather. The sound of the fountain reminded him of the forest streams and if he closed his eyes the prince could almost imagine himself back home . . .

"Legolas!"

The prince sat up abruptly, jolted out of his reverie. Marching towards him were Estel and the twins and they did not look happy. Legolas stood, dusting down his tunic.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there is," said Elladan bluntly. "What did you do to our clothes?"

"Your clothes?" asked Legolas, feigning innocence. "Nothing, why?"

His hosts surrounded him, all scowling. "They _itched_," said Estel. "We couldn't stop scratching all morning!"

"That was what was wrong with you, was it?" said Legolas provocatively. "I thought it was some sort of custom peculiar to Imladris."

"Don't be ridiculous, Legolas," snarled Elrohir. "You know full well what you did."

Legolas was growing bored of the conversation. Moreover, the talks were due to start again any minute. "Look," he said, "think upon it as your penance for yesterday's antics. If you cannot take it, do not give it out."

Elladan stepped forward. "We take that as a challenge. This will mean war, you realise."

Legolas smiled lazily, enjoying himself. "Let the battle commence, then."

---------

Three days had passed since the declaring of hostilities and both sides had yet to make their move. Elrond was still keeping a watchful eye on Estel and the twins, while Legolas seemed happy enough to let things lie.

Meanwhile, the talks went on. Estel and the twins were bored to tears with the discussion of suitable trade routes, prices for the goods and all the various other details that had to be picked over. They did their best to hide their feelings, but Elrond could read his sons like a book. In truth, he felt some sympathy with them, knowing how much they longed to be roaming free in the grounds.

Which was why the elf lord allowed the three young ones, as he thought of them, a reprieve on the fourth day of the talks. As negotiations finished for the day, he called his sons and Legolas over.

"I think you have all been stuck indoors for too long. I am sure you would like a break from diplomacy, would you not?"

His three sons nodded their assent, while Legolas looked almost suspicious, as though it were some sort of trap. Elrond continued regardless.

"Why don't the four of you go out for a hunt together tomorrow? You can really show Legolas the grounds then."

The prince could not think of anything he would less rather do, given current relations between him and his hosts, but to refuse would surely cause offence. He could only agree helplessly.

The twins and Estel were altogether more enthusiastic. They knew the layout of Rivendell better than anyone – it would be easy to bamboozle Legolas in their own territory. They agreed with alacrity.

Elrond smiled. "Good. Stop by the kitchens and ask if they would provide some provisions. If I do not see you beforehand, enjoy yourselves!"

"We will, _Ada_," grinned Estel, while Legolas groaned silently. The prince was not so sure.

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	5. Wandering off the trail

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Thank you all for the good reviews, I am really happy that this story is being received so well! I think this chapter might be my first cliffy – enjoy . . . (and 10 points to Joee1 for having an excellent memory)**

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The day of the hunt had turned out to be warm and sunny, a last fling of summer before the autumn drew in. The trees opened their leaves to the life-giving sunlight and birds chirped merrily amongst the branches. Despite his misgivings, Legolas found himself happy to be outside on such a beautiful day. The carefree spirit that ruled in Imladris had long been missing from Mirkwood's lands.

Of course, this levity could be taken to extremes, thought the prince as he eyed Elladan and Elrohir. The twins had been exchanging whispers and hushed giggles all morning and Legolas had little doubt that they were planning some new trick. Estel was apparently part of the conspiracy as well, judging by how reluctant the human was to look him in the eye.

"We are here," announced Elladan abruptly, coming to a sudden stop. "The best hunting ground in Rivendell."

Legolas looked around. To him, the terrain looked no different from many other parts of Elrond's realm, but the twins presumably knew what they were talking about. Besides, it was now well past noon and the four had been travelling since sunrise. The prince was not going to refuse the chance of a break.

"Estel, have you got the food there?" asked Elrohir, unwrapping his own pack. The two had shared the burden of the picnic, while Elladan and Legolas both carried the basic healing kits that Lord Elrond had insisted they take.

"I'm just getting it, be patient. After all, we've waited long enough for it – it seems an age since breakfast."

"It would do to you, Estel," teased Elladan. "I swear you have a bottomless pit for a stomach!"

"Hah, you're a fine one to talk," retorted his younger brother, not looking up from his pack. "_Ada_ is always complaining that you two eat him out of house and home. He says it would be cheaper to feed a pack of wargs!"

Elladan stuck his tongue out at Estel in a childish gesture before turning to the prince. "Help yourself. We will eat and then outline the afternoon's plans."

Legolas murmured his thanks, though in truth he disliked hunting on a full stomach. Still, things were awkward enough as they were without refusing the offered hospitality. The prince selected a few things and stretched out on the grass, basking in the warmth of the sun. Around him the brothers' friendly bickering continued, but Legolas ignored it. He was too busy trying to work out just what the twins had up their sleeves.

"So is it true that you're fantastic at archery?" Estel asked the prince, having belatedly realised that neither he nor his brothers had spoken a word to the foreign elf throughout lunch. He waited a moment, but no reply was forthcoming. "Legolas?"

"Hmm?" The prince sat up, looking at Estel. "I am sorry, were you talking to me?"

"He was, the Valar know why," said Elrohir under his breath. Estel shot the twin an annoyed look. The man did not like Legolas much, but he felt that his brothers rather overstepped the mark sometimes.

"I was asking about archery. Glorfindel said your skill was great." Estel was curious to learn more about this reserved elf and thought that discussing a favourite hobby might encourage the prince to open up.

Legolas shrugged. "He spoke truly. I am the best archer in Mirkwood – perhaps in all of Middle-Earth." His voice was matter-of-fact, but the words would have sounded boastful no matter what tone of voice he used. Behind Legolas' back, Elladan pulled an exaggerated face.

"Would you show us?" Estel was fascinated by weaponry and the peculiar skill of the archer that had so far eluded the young man.

"A simple demonstration? What fun is there in that?" asked Elladan, scrambling to his feet. "We all have our bows here – why not have a contest?"

"I don't think so – I'd be out first round," pointed out Estel ruefully. "You know I'm better with a sword than a bow."

"I will sit it out as well, Elladan," piped up Elrohir. "It's too warm for unnecessary effort."

Elladan looked at Legolas. "Just the two of us then – if you accept the challenge, of course." The older twin's competitive nature was coming to the fore.

Legolas got to his feet. "Certainly I accept. In fact, I would be willing to lay down money on the result."

"Oh really?" Elladan cocked his head. "Very well – I have fifty florins that say your ability is not as great as is rumoured."

"Why not make it five guineas? A more rounded figure," suggested Legolas.

"If you wish it."

"I do. What exactly are we to shoot?" inquired Legolas.

Elladan dug around in his pack, eventually finding what he was looking for. He held up two medium sized leather balls.

"Here. I brought them in case we wanted a game, but they will do for this. Estel and Elrohir will throw them up into the air and we will shoot them before they land." The twin waited to see if Legolas would accept. Such quickly moving targets were difficult, especially with such small objects.

Legolas, however, did not think twice. He signalled his agreement and Estel and Elrohir moved a few hundred yards away, ready to toss the balls into the air.

The two elves readied their bows. Elrohir called down from the other end of the large clearing. "Ready, steady . . . throwing!"

Estel watched, open mouthed, as the two arrows sped towards their targets. To accurately spear the small things seemed to him an impossible task. He knew that the twins often played this game together and that Elladan had had much practice. It would take a lot of skill – or a lot of luck – to defeat him.

The two balls fell, knocked back by the arrows. One fell haplessly to the floor, a groove from the arrow carved in its side. The other Estel could not immediately see, until his brother's gasp alerted him.

"By all the Valar . . ."

The second ball was lodged in a tree just behind where Estel had been, a Mirkwood arrow embedded in its side. Before Estel could say anything, the two competitors came over.

Elladan smirked. "So, do we have a victor?" He bent and picked up his own marked ball, not seeing the pinned arrow.

His brothers stayed silent, but Legolas was quick to respond. "Assuredly so, Elladan. I hope five guineas will not drain your resources too much."

Elladan looked up sharply. "My resources? What do you - " He stopped abruptly as he saw Legolas' arrow.

Estel openly stared at the prince. "How could you have done that? It was impossible, not even Glorfindel has ever hit the ball dead on!"

Elladan scowled, irritated to have lost. "That is impossible – there is some trickery here -"

"There is no trickery," interrupted Legolas angrily. "I fired my shot just as you did yours. There is talent and skill and centuries of practice, yes, but there is no trickery. Do not accuse me of it."

Elrohir placed a restraining hand on his twin's arm. "Let things be, 'Dan. He is not worth it." Yawning, he started to wander back down to gather up the detritus of the picnic. "Come on – we are wasting the best hours of the day."

Estel caught the younger twin's wink and grinned to himself. Legolas may have won the archery contest, but the twins' latest plan would soon bring the prince back down to earth.

Once the picnic site had been made presentable again, Elrohir turned to the prince. "I am afraid this afternoon will not be a straightforward hunt," he said apologetically. "We promised to teach Estel the art of tracking and it is easier done with four than three."

Legolas glanced over at the human with thinly veiled contempt in his eyes, which Estel ignored. "I thought this was supposed to be a productive hunt, not a training session." Ordinarily Legolas would not have been so rude to his hosts, but the three had been getting on his nerves all day and their refusal to politely acknowledge his victory angered him.

"It is," said Elladan in a placating manner, surprisingly not taking offence. "It will be. But we would like to help Estel first. It will not take long."

The prince suppressed a sigh. At this moment, he wished he had never agreed to come to Imladris. He was beginning to doubt whether the trade negotiations were worth all the aggravation. "Very well. What is the plan?"

It was Estel who answered. "The twins have laid out a track which I should be able to follow. If you will come with me to make sure I am doing so correctly, they will meet us at the end."

Legolas narrowed his eyes. While he did not know the human particularly well, he would not have said that Estel was the type to admit to needing help or supervision. Even if he were, why could one of the twins not supervise him? It would make far more sense, given that they would know Estel's progress and capabilities. The prince remembered all the whispering earlier on and decided that, whatever the point of this plan, it was bound to end in trouble of some sort.

Even so, Legolas could not refuse. He gave his agreement reluctantly, vowing to be on his guard against the joke that was clearly being concocted.

--------

Estel turned his head to make sure that Legolas was still behind him. It had been a good three or four miles since they had parted company with the twins, but the prince had yet to utter a sound, save an occasional grunt of agreement when Estel double checked the trail.

As it happened, the twins had left an astoundingly clear path – it could practically be traced blindfold. Estel was more than capable of following a much less visible track, but the three had wanted to lure Legolas into a false sense of security. For their trick to work the prince had to trust Estel and he was far more likely to do so if he thought the man incapable.

Just ahead, Estel caught sight of a fork in the trail. _At last_, he thought and ran towards it. Once there, he waited for Legolas to catch up.

"We will have to split up. Look, the path splits."

Legolas shook his head. "Split up? Surely you do not need me to tell you that that is a last resort, only to be used when all other options have been explored. Certainly not for something as inconsequential as a fork in the trail. No, choose a path and we will explore it together. If this were a real tracking, separating could be dangerous."

"But Legolas . . ." said Estel, introducing a deliberate whine into his voice. "If I choose the wrong road we'll take ages to find the twins and we won't have time to do any hunting. If we each take different ones we'll be quicker."

The prince eyed Estel. The prospect of ending this tracking business sooner was an attractive one. "And you will be all right on your own?"

Estel drew himself up, looking offended. "I've managed all right so far, haven't I? I'm not a child. Look, you go that way and I'll go this. It will be much quicker."

Legolas threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine. I will see you at the end."

Estel watched the prince stalk off. He would see Legolas sooner than the elf anticipated . . . and he could not wait to see the prince's face.

----------

Legolas had been walking for about twenty minutes when he felt the change in the ground. Where previously it had been solid, full of earthworms digesting the soil and roots greedily sucking up the nutrients they left behind, now there was an unexpected sense of space – somewhere the plants could not feed from.

Perturbed, Legolas laid his hand on the nearest trunk, trying to determine where this strange hole began. Inching forward, the wood elf was prepared for the ground giving way beneath him, managing to jump backwards just in time.

A long and protracted rumble began as various well-placed twigs, leaves and shoals of dirt fell into a hole some fifteen feet deep. Once the cacophony had died down, Legolas dared to look over the edge of the pit.

Natural or designed, the hole would make an effective trap. The sides were smoothly sloped and rounded, impossible to climb, while the top had been cleverly disguised. If he had not sensed the change in the ground, Legolas would have been stuck down there until the twins or Estel turned up – and who knew how long they might have left him there?

So this was the joke they had been sniggering about all day. Trapping the arrogant visitor – yes, Legolas could see one of the twins having a bright idea like that. Foolish of them not to remember that he was a wood elf, though. None of Legolas' friends in Mirkwood could have failed to spot the hole, even if it was beyond the capabilities of the Noldor.

The question was, where were the twins now? It was a wonderful opportunity to play them at their own game – imprison them in their own trap, if that were possible.

Again Legolas reached out a hand to the nearest trunk, but this time with a deeper connection in mind. He closed his eyes, reached out with his spirit until he felt his blood become as slow as sap and his skin cried out for the essential sunlight. To an observer it would seem that the young prince's features had stilled and solidified, as though carved from wood.

Sindar elves were blessed with a strong link to the land in which they lived. They could indeed communicate with the trees, but it was a long and laborious process.

Legolas concentrated on a mental image of the hole. Once he had that fixed in his mind, he visualised the passing of the sun and the moon, the coming and going of heat and life. _The hole . . . how long?_

The tree responded with its own image. Legolas felt it as a sapling, buffeted by the winds, bent to breaking point. Then growing, solidifying, always stretching. _Many years._

The twins. Laughter, soft footsteps, linked to the one who ruled here. _Show me._

Vibrations of voices on the leaves, a dark night. "Only an hour or so . . . not too long . . . knock his pride a bit . . ."

Focus on the twins. See the forest, how it all connects . . . feel the other plants competing. _Where are they now?_

Grass, small roots that are widely spread. Fewer trees, not enough food. _Not near._

The man. Heavier footfalls, distant . . . less connected. _Where?_

_The power stops._ Beyond that now . . . the black ones. The Destroyers. _Gone. Lost. They kill._ Fire, flame, sword, pain, axe . . . disrespect.

Legolas' eyes flew open and he abruptly broke the connection. He felt stiff and awkward, as always after these encounters, but he paid it no heed.

Estel . . . he had asked of Estel and the forest had replied. There could be no doubt as to the meaning of the images.

_Yrch_.

---------

There was a slight ripping noise as Estel caught his sleeve on yet another thorn bush and the man cursed quietly. He was not familiar with this part of Rivendell and there was no sign of the twins. The trail they had laid some days before was clear enough, but Estel had not realised that the meeting point was so far from where the trail had forked.

The trees had thinned out and Estel saw he was at the borders. Beyond the faint, barely discernible line that marked Rivendell's boundaries, acres of fields stretched away, rising up over the hills. Various small villages cultivated this area and haystacks littered the farms, left behind after the summer's harvest.

As Estel looked out over the world outside Rivendell, taking an absent-minded swig from his water bottle, something dark caught his eye. Over in the foothills of the mountains, amongst the various nooks and crannies, there was some sort of camp. Estel's eyesight was not as good as an elf's, but even he could see that the strange objects littered around the site were anything but human.

For a few minutes Estel simply stood, pondering the best course of action. The sensible thing would, of course, be to ignore the strange camp and try to find the twins. But he was curious to get a closer view and besides, Elrond would probably welcome news of what was happening past his borders. The thought that he could be endangering himself never occurred to the young man.

Estel dropped closer to the ground and began to make his way towards the mysterious camp, barely noticing as he passed out of Rivendell and his father's protection. It took a good hour or so to make out the foul beings just inside the stone hollows and the air began to stink as Estel grew closer. They were sleeping, but the noise of the intruder caused one of them to stir. Its black eyes looked around and the young man's breath caught in his throat.

These beasts were the dreaded orcs . . . and Estel had walked straight into their campsite.

_------------_

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	6. Questions

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Thanks again to everyone who's still reading! Enjoy :)**

**NB Laer - July/August**

**-----------**

Estel felt himself beginning to panic and forcibly choked it down. He had heard many tales of orcs and the various tortures they inflicted on their victims. The man shivered as he remembered the stories and he feverishly began to retreat, hoping against hope that the foul creatures had not registered his presence. Full of youth's confidence though he was, Estel was sensible enough to realise that he had neither the training nor the weapons for a confrontation.

Everything would have been fine, Estel reflected later, if it had not been for that blasted pothole. Desperate to get away, not watching his steps carefully, the human inadvertently stepped in one of the dips that littered the ill-kept road, wrenching his ankle. The pain came unexpectedly and Estel could not stifle the strangulated oath that sprang to his lips.

He heard rather than saw the orcs' realisation that there was an intruder in their midst. Cursing his folly, the young man began to run as fast as he could. But his ankle throbbed, costing him speed; moreover, Estel had been walking all day and was tired, whereas the orcs were fresh from a day's sleep.

After a few strides it became apparent that the orcs could not be outrun. The only option left now was to fight. All very well in theory, but in practice Estel lacked his sword, the only weapon he truly felt confident and comfortable with. All he had was his bow and a small penknife that, while ideal for skinning rabbits or fletching arrows, was unlikely to offer much defence against a dozen orcs.

Impossible odds, therefore – less likely than a blizzard in Laer. Nevertheless, Estel was anything but a coward. If he were to be captured, at the very least he would not make it easy for his opponents.

With these defiant thoughts in mind, Estel turned to face his pursuers. His resolve faltered a little at the sight of half a dozen orcs coming towards him at a terrifying pace, but the man stood firm. Unslinging his bow and stringing an arrow as he had been taught, Estel took aim and let the arrow fly . . .

It went wide. Fumbling, Estel shot again and this time gave one of the beasts a glancing blow to the arm. The wound was not enough to slow the creature down though and the next arrow also missed its target by more than a foot.

_Valar help me._ The orcs were almost upon him now, too close to shoot. Desperate, Estel abandoned his bow and began to use his remaining arrows as spears. More by luck than judgement, he stabbed the nearest orc in the eye, felling the beast. But the orcs were too many and Estel's luck too thin. A crushing blow to the ribs winded the young man and he fell backwards, struggling to breathe. He had no defence when the club smashed into his head, rendering him unconscious.

---------

Legolas sat back on his heels a moment, trying to comprehend what it was he had felt. Estel in the hands of orcs? Surely that was impossible. Estel would not have gone beyond the borders and while Elladan's pointed comments about Imladris' safety were irksome, they were also true. The house of Elrond was known far and wide as an elven stronghold, as yet untouched by the darkness that grew in the deep forests. For orcs to be here was unthinkable.

Yet the prince did not doubt the information he had been given. The trees could not lie. Once again he reached out, striving to understand.

Fire, the Destroyers. With the man, the heavier footfalls. _Where?_

The tree's branches quivered, such was the strength of the elf's questions. _Gone beyond_ . . . the power stops.

_No._ Connect; there are plants there. Feel them, share their thirst. _Show me now._

A creaking sound came from the tree, loud enough to scare away a deer grazing nearby. To Legolas, it was inaudible. _Show me!_

Scrubs. Ferns. Hedges. Deep soil, cared for . . . then rocks, hard and unforgiving. _Mountains and farms._ The Destroyers had fire there, burning the plants. _Many._

Legolas broke the connection gently, recognising the strain he had put the tree under. The great trunk sagged, if such a thing were possible, but the effect was only momentary – seconds later, it was as solid and upright as any trunk could ever be.

The prince breathed out and stood up. Or rather, he attempted to stand up. His legs seemed to be under the impression that they were made of stiff, inflexible wood and it took a minute or two to persuade them otherwise. Not only that, but Legolas was fighting a pressing urge to put down roots and not move for the next few centuries.

These after effects were the reason why wood elves generally preferred to rest for at least an hour after "talking" (if such it could be called) with the trees, but Legolas had no time to spare. Estel was already in the orcs' hands and there was no guarantee that they would not kill him instantly. If the man was to be rescued, Legolas must set off immediately.

The prince had not gone more than a couple of steps when he remembered the twins. Should he try and find them, let them know what was going on? He dismissed the idea from his mind. Those two jokers had dragged them all into this situation in the first place and time was not on Legolas' side. He decided to press on regardless and let the twins look after themselves.

In this judgement Legolas erred. Notwithstanding where the blame lay, to set off alone to confront an unknown number of orcs without letting anyone know was folly. But the prince's pride was strong and his faith in his abilities great; and so he headed to the mountains, to rescue a young man whom he did not even like overmuch. He left no sign of his destination, or of his reasons for going. To all intents and purposes, the prince had disappeared.

---------

Certainly it seemed to Elladan and Elrohir as though their guest had vanished, taking their younger brother with him. Estel had never arrived at the pre-arranged meeting place and eventually the twins decided that the human must have gone straight to the trap they had laid for Legolas.

Dusk was not far off when the two reached the hole, but there was no sign of either human or elf there. Elrohir turned to Elladan worriedly.

"Something's gone wrong."

Elladan bit his lower lip, a nervous habit he had had since childhood. "Don't jump to conclusions. Let's have a look round. After all, _something's_ been here – the pit is exposed."

Elrohir shook his head stubbornly. "But not Legolas or Estel. Legolas would never be able to climb out on his own and if Estel had helped him, they would not have left the cushions down there."

Elladan peered a little further into the hole and admitted that his twin might have a point. The pink cushions, smuggled out by the twins while Estel kept his mother busy in the kitchen, placed there to break Legolas' fall, were still visible.

"Besides," Elrohir continued, "I cannot see any sign that Estel has been here. No footprints or anything like that."

"That doesn't prove anything," countered Elladan. "You know as well as I do that Estel covers his tracks almost instinctively. He has a natural talent for it."

Elrohir crossed his arms. "Elladan, something has gone wrong. I can feel it."

The younger twin had inherited a little of his father's foresight and his 'feelings', as he called them, were rarely wrong. Elladan sighed.

"Let's at least search this area. Then we will retrace Estel's steps. He can't have gone too far."

Elrohir nodded, but the unease did not leave him. Something had gone badly awry and he feared for his little brother.

--------

Legolas came to a halt at the border. Why on Middle-Earth would Estel leave Imladris and do so alone? Maybe the elf had misunderstood, or this was just another joke concocted by the three brothers.

No. Legolas knew it in his heart, even without the knowledge gained from the trees. Estel was in some sort of trouble and he needed help.

The red sun was setting as Legolas walked out of Imladris.

-----------

"He definitely came this way. Look, there's a faint footprint, just there."

Elladan squinted. "I can only just see it. Elrohir, we're losing the light." He sighed, worry eating at his heart. "There are no other marks. Legolas did not follow him here."

Elrohir's eyes were shadowed. "Then Estel is out there alone – and you remember what Legolas said about his journey. That there were more goblins in the mountains than usual, intent on waylaying unwary travellers."

"And that he would not have been surprised to see orcs or wargs about. I remember." Elladan rose abruptly, his face set determinedly. "We need to find Estel, before he runs into trouble."

"We can't find him, not on a moonless night like tonight. We'll never see the tracks." Elrohir knew how his older brother felt, but one of the two had to be realistic. "We would be better advised to go home, raise a proper search party and come back in the morning, when our chances will be that much higher."

Elladan closed his eyes, reaching for Elrohir's steady calmness. He took a deep breath and forced his tense body to relax. He opened his eyes. "Then let us hurry. I will not leave Estel out there any longer than necessary."

Elrohir grasped his brother's hand. "We won't, Elladan. We won't."

---------

The constant motion was making Estel feel extremely sick. He had come round some time ago, to find himself being carried through the night by one of the orcs. His wrists and ankles had been bound and his mouth had been gagged with an evil-smelling cloth.

Estel could feel the fear growing in the pit of his stomach. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, where they were headed or what the orcs would do once they got there. Not only that, but another unpleasant thought was needling him – no one knew where the young man was. He had left no message and doubted that any discernible tracks would have been left on the dry ground.

The loneliness was overwhelming. Estel was on his own.

----------

It had taken Legolas over two hours to find the orcs' campsite. Even in the dark, it was clear that the group had left hurriedly. As if any further proof as to Estel's whereabouts was needed, an orc corpse had been lying on the ground, about a quarter of a mile from the campsite. An arrow easily recognisable as of Imladris make had been sticking out of its eye, making a gruesome tableau.

So the orcs had gone, taking Estel with them. Still, Legolas felt hopeful. The creatures would not bother to cart a dead body around, which indicated that the human was still alive. Though for how much longer was not something that the prince wanted to speculate.

The stench that the beasts had left behind was overpowering and the elf grimaced. From now on there would be no need to examine the ground – all he need do was follow his nose. Even so, Legolas would be hard pushed to catch up before dawn at the earliest – orcs moved quickly when they wanted to and the prince had no doubt that they would be doing so now.

Adjusting his bow on his shoulders, Legolas broke into a light run, following the stink up the mountain path. He sent up a prayer to any listening Vala that he would not be too late.

-------

"You are still up."

Gilraen jumped, skewering her finger with the sewing needle. "Lord Elrond! I did not see you there."

Elrond smiled, moving round to stoke the dying embers of the library fire. "Do not get up. I am sorry; I did not mean to startle you. I did not expect to find you still here. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Gilraen hesitated, unwilling to reveal the true reason why she was still sitting in the library – the room closest to the entrance hall. It was impossible to keep a secret from Elrond though and eventually she blurted it out. "By all the Valar, they should be back by now! It's long after dark." She knew she was being overprotective, knew that the four were perfectly safe in Imladris . . . but she still worried. After Arathorn's death, Estel was all she had. If anything were to happen – well, it did not bear thinking about.

Elrond, as so often, appeared to be reading her mind. "I would not worry. You know what those three are like. In all probability they simply lost track of the time. They will be back soon."

Gilraen nodded, reassured by Elrond's words. She felt foolish to be so anxious, but Arathorn had just walked out one day and never came back . . . _No_. She would not think of such things. Picking up her embroidery again, Gilraen forced her mind onto new tracks.

"I just hope they come back friends. I don't understand this animosity that exists between our three and the prince."

She was shocked to see her companion redden slightly. "Lord Elrond?"

The elf lord cleared his throat. "As far as that goes, I confess that I am not entirely blameless. Thranduil has decidedly traditional views on humans and their place in elven society. Naturally I, a half-mortal, have never been a particular friend of his and I fear that I may have been somewhat . . . uncomplimentary about the king in the twins' presence."

Gilraen laughed. "That is all? They don't get on because Thranduil looks down on you? Honestly, sometimes I think -"

She was interrupted by the noise of the front door opening. Relief swept over her. Putting aside her needlework, Gilraen rose to meet her son . . . but he was not there. Only the twins had returned and their expressions were anything but comforting.

"Elladan? Elrohir? What's happened? Where's Estel, why isn't he here with you?" Gilraen asked, feeling dread creep over her. She had been right to worry, something had happened and Estel had not come back, just like his father . . . she began to panic.

Elrond stepped in front of Gilraen and grasped her arms. "Gilraen, calm down. Give the twins a chance to answer." Once he was sure the woman had control over herself, he turned to his sons. "Well?"

Elladan met his father's gaze nervously. "_Ada_, we do not know where Estel is. We became separated. We think he crossed the eastern borders, but it was too dark to follow – there is no moon tonight."

Concern darkened Elrond's eyes. "Crossed the borders? Why? And where is Legolas?"

"We do not know," Elrohir replied. "As Elladan said, we were separated. We did not realise what had happened until dusk."

Gilraen pushed Elrond aside, abandoning her usual politeness. "Why not? What did you think you were playing at, leaving Estel alone? He's still only young, for pity's sake! What on Middle-Earth possessed you?"

"Gilraen, hush!" Elrond understood the mother's anxiety, but it would help no one.

"We split into two pairs – us and Estel and Legolas. After that, we do not know what happened," said Elladan, truthfully if not quite honestly.

"All right. Elrohir, go and find Glorfindel. We will form a search party and you can take us to where you think Estel crossed the border. It will be light by the time we get there. Elladan, go and prepare the horses – we will move more quickly that way."

The twins nodded and hurried off to their respective tasks. Elrond held Gilraen close, trying to calm her.

"We will find him, Gilraen. I promise."

The woman looked up, her eyes pleading. Elrohir was not the only one to remember Legolas' description of the mountains. "Please, Elrond . . . I cannot go through it again. Please, my heart will not stand it. Promise me he will be safe."

Elrond said nothing. It was a promise he could not make.

_------------_

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	7. Forbidden blade

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Fudge and cookies to everyone still reading, hope you all had a happy Hallowe'en!**

**-----------**

_For Eru's sake, not again!_ Legolas growled in frustration at the large rock that blocked his path. It was yet another dead-end.

The prince looked up at the pale blue sky. Dawn was slowly breaking and he had been following the orcs all night. Somehow, though, he had contrived to lose them in the long, twisting mountain roads.

Sighing, Legolas turned back. The horde had left few tracks on the hard stone and the stench of orcs had soon been replaced by the fetid odour of goblins. There had been no sign of these latter, for which Legolas was profoundly grateful. He guessed that they were lying low, wary of their orc cousins.

Again Legolas glanced at the sky, which, like yesterday, was cloudless. There was less shelter in the heights than there was at the foothills of the mountains and the photophobic orcs would soon be looking for a place to hide from the sun. Then Estel really would be in trouble.

The elf quickened his pace.

--------

Estel screwed up his eyes against the bright light as the group rounded a corner. The sun had risen some time ago, but until now the orcs had been sheltered from its harsh rays by the vast expanse of rock.

The orc carrying Estel let loose a deep snarl. "I 'ope you ain't expecting us to walk in this, Schartz. It stings."

The one addressed as Schartz, presumably the leader, swung round. "Shut your prattle, you. We ain't far from the cave; you'll just 'ave to live with it 'til then. Anyway, I didn't 'ear you moaning when we was back at the bottom and there was plenty of sun there."

"There was more shelter and all. 'Ow far's this cave of yours, anyway? This one 'ere's like a sack o' bleeding rocks."

"'Ere, we're 'ere. 'Appy now?"

"Perfectly," replied the orc, dumping Estel unceremoniously on the floor as he entered the shadowy chamber. The man let out a muffled cry as he hit the hard stone floor.

Schartz stepped up to Estel, leaning into him. The young man gagged as the creature's rotten breath enveloped him. Lazily the orc slit the bonds around Estel's hands and mouth.

"Well then. What do we 'ave 'ere? A human that parades round in elf costumes and carries their stinkin' weapons? You must be well favoured by Himself, I reckon."

Estel refused to look away, much as he wanted to. He gathered all his courage. "It is none of your business, _yrch_."

The blow to his face was hard and unexpected, dislodging one of the human's teeth. Estel tasted the coppery blood in his mouth and grimaced. The orc smiled.

"As it 'appens, I reckon it is my business. I reckon there are plenty of things you could tell us about your Lord Elrond, if you 'ad a mind to." His grin widened and Estel felt a surge of fear.

Turning to his companions, Schartz barked out something in the guttural Black Speech. Estel could not understand the words, but he would have wagered his last ha'penny that they did not bode well.

The cave was clearly the beginning of a complex system of underground passages, with various tunnels heading deeper into the bowels of the mountains. Even so, there was plenty of space in this first cavern for Estel and all the orcs.

The young man was dragged over to the centre of the cave and pushed to his feet. A long piece of rope was tied around his wrists and then threaded through a rusty iron ring that was set into the reasonably low ceiling. The end of it all saw Estel positioned securely upright, with no hope of escaping.

Schartz ran his scaly claws over Estel's face almost tenderly. "I'll ask you again – what connection do you 'ave with them filthy elves?"

Estel scowled back, determined not to cave in. "None that I would tell you."

Schartz growled. "'Ave it your way then." His black talons caught Estel's tunic and pulled hard. The orc was strong and succeeded in ripping the soft material, leaving the human bare-chested. "He's all yours, lads."

The whip came from behind and Estel never saw it, only heard the soft whistle as the leather flew through the air. He felt the dull thud as it hit him, rocking him forward, then a moment later experienced the true pain as it flared through his body, causing him to gasp slightly. Yet no sooner had Estel registered this than another blow came, then another. The man bit his lip and screwed his eyes shut, searching for a distraction. Desperately he began to recite the significant dates of the First Age, forcing himself to ignore the surrounding orcs.

_I will not cry out, I will not . . . _

_--------_

"Here, look. This is where he crossed."

Elrond nodded, agreeing with Elladan's words. He reached out and gently touched the clearly visible footprint, hoping for some vision, for some sign that would tell him where Estel was . . . but there was nothing. He sighed and straightened up. "And this was last night, you say? Ilúvatar help us, he could be anywhere by now."

The twins shared a nervous glance, both noting the undertone of worry in their father's voice. Glorfindel caught the look and gave the two a reassuring nod before addressing Elrond.

"Do not panic, my lord. We have five search parties here of six elves each, with more on hand should we need them. We will find Estel – and Prince Legolas."

Elrond surveyed the countryside that surrounded his home, wondering again where Estel was and if he was all right. He mentally shook himself – such thoughts were unprofitable right now.

"Get them out there, then. Have a good runner in each team should any trace of either of them be found. I will return home."

Glorfindel nodded and turned away to relay Elrond's orders. The twins looked at their father questioningly.

"_Ada_?" asked Elrohir. "Why did you come if only to go back immediately?"

Elrond rubbed his temples, trying to explain his reasoning. "I thought that if I came here I might see something, that the Valar would point me in the right direction . . . but I am blind. My heart tells me nothing and so I return to the one place where information will surely be sent. Besides, I left Gilraen in a state of some distress. She will need someone with her should the news be bad."

Elladan grasped his father's hand. "It will not be, _Ada_. Elrohir and I are searching as well and we _will_ find Estel."

His sons' determination caused Elrond to smile a little. He only prayed that they were right.

----------

Legolas paused, ears straining. He was sure . . . yes, there it was. The grating sound of orc laughter. He must be close now.

The prince had been running, but now he walked sedately. If his vague plan was to have any chance of success, it was vital that he appeared calm and collected. Even then it would be risky, but he could not think of a better idea.

Keeping his ears pricked, Legolas followed the sounds of the orcs.

----------

"Stop it! Leave me be . . . please." Estel had never known pain like this, had never before felt the harsh bite of a whip. His resolve was fast crumbling in the face of this abuse.

Schartz grinned delightedly, holding up his hand for the others to stop. "Well, well, well! Don't take much to break you after all, does it lads?"

Estel did not respond, swaying slightly. He wanted nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes, but the cruel straps around his wrists held him upright.

Schartz prodded the human's chest. "Now you listen up. We'll stop, right enough, just as soon as you tell us what business you have with the bloody elves. I'd be willin' to bet that their little fortress ain't as secure as they paint it, see? And you're goin' to be our key."

Before Estel could think of an answer, a voice rang out from the cave entrance. "And what exactly is going on here?"

The orcs, taken by surprise, turned as one body. They had been so engrossed by the grisly flogging that not one of them had noticed the intruder's approach.

Estel craned over his captors' heads, not daring to believe that the voice was real. Then he caught a sight of the speaker and relief rushed through him. Legolas was here! A dozen questions raced through the man's mind, not least of which was the whereabouts of his brothers. Was it possible that they were here as well?

Schartz barged his way over to the elf, growling. "Who are you an' what d'you think you're doin' 'ere?"

Legolas' eyes met Estel's for a brief moment, but no recognition showed. Estel's heart began to sink. He did not understand what Legolas was doing.

The prince turned his gaze back to Schartz. "I was passing through the mountains when I heard your black horde," he replied coolly. "It struck me as worthy of further investigation, nothing more."

"Don't bloody lie to me," snarled Schartz. He drew a large, curved blade, stained with years of use and poor care. Holding it at the elf's throat, he surveyed the newcomer. "You've come to rescue your mate here – you're one of them Rivendell elves, with the rest of you waitin' round the corner. I'm not as thick as all that, elf."

Legolas raised a contemptuous eyebrow. He pushed the blade away from him with his bare hand, causing Estel to wince. "Yet you seemingly cannot tell the difference between an elf of Imladris and one of Mirkwood. I assure you I have nothing to do with the Noldor and I would certainly not go out of my way to rescue any human – especially such a pitiful specimen as this one appears to be. I merely thought that there might be an opportunity here to rid Middle-Earth of some more orcs – and it would seem that I was right."

Schartz looked at him narrowly, but did not say anything for a moment. Estel felt relieved, despite the elf's harsh words– whatever Legolas was planning, this over-confident orc seemed to be falling for it.

The same could not be said, unfortunately, of the orc that had carried Estel. It stepped forward menacingly. "That's what you reckon, is it? Let's see how bloody cocky you are with a blade between your ribs!"

But Legolas' reactions were swift and before the throwing knife had even left the orc's hand, the elf let one of his own daggers fly. It struck the orc squarely in the throat and the creature slumped harmlessly to the ground, its blade slipping out of its grasp.

"What the . . . you'll pay for that." Schartz's wrath was up and he looked ready to slaughter the elf on the spot. The other orcs pressed in, scenting blood, until Estel's view of Legolas was blocked.

The elf backed away a little and held up a finger. "One moment. I have a proposition for you, if you are a strong enough fighter."

Schartz drew himself up. He stood a full foot taller than Legolas. "You won't find one stronger, elf. What d'you want?"

Legolas shot Estel another quick look. "A duel. You and me, to prove who is the better fighter. And to make it interesting, I would wager on the outcome."

The orc looked suspicious. "A bet? And what d'you 'ave that I give a damn about, elf?"

The prince shrugged, appearing to think. After a moment, he replied. "Your prisoner. If I win, he goes free. If you win, you will have an extra captive."

"Why bother to fight you when I could kill you 'ere?" Schartz sneered.

"If you could have, you would have," replied Legolas. "You saw what happened to your friend. Besides, are you really about to turn down your chance of soundly defeating an elf?" He cocked his head and stared at the orc, offering his challenge.

"Fine," retorted Schartz angrily. "You'll get your fight. On one condition."

The prince looked askance.

"We will be unarmed. I won't go down with a blade in my throat."

Estel waited anxiously for Legolas' reply, the pain in his back temporarily forgotten. He had never seen the prince fight, but knew that the elf was primarily an archer, with his daggers as his secondary strength. To fight unarmed would surely be folly, especially when his opponent was so well equipped with teeth and claws.

The prince, however, barely hesitated before nodding curtly. He lowered his bow and arrows onto the floor along with his pack, placing his remaining knife on top of them. This done, Legolas turned back to Schartz.

"Let us begin."

---------

"Elladan! Elrohir!"

The twins looked up at the sound of their names. It was one of the runners from another search party and he seemed agitated about something.

"What is it? Have they found anything?" asked Elrohir urgently. They had been hunting for over an hour now with no luck.

The messenger nodded, his expression distressed. "An orc camp, at the foothills of the mountains. There is a dead one there, killed with one of our arrows. It seems that they left in something of a hurry – and all the evidence suggests that they took Estel with them."

Elladan looked at Elrohir, both taken back in an instant to the night, so many years ago, when their mother had vanished. Elladan shook his head and spoke in a low voice.

"Not this time, Elrohir. It is not the same." He turned to the runner, raising his voice again. "Take us there, quickly."

The other elf obliged and the twins ran after him, pushing the unpalatable thoughts to the back of their minds. Some things did not bear contemplation.

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"Let us begin."

Legolas watched Schartz warily. The others had backed away, forming a small circle that unwittingly included Estel. Silence reigned, all attention focused on the elf and the orc.

The prince was realistic enough to know that he would not win this fight on his own merits, not without a weapon. The Mirkwood elves were well trained in unarmed combat – the harsh realities of their home demanded it – but there was little that could be done against an orc's imposing strength. Legolas would have to rely on his superior speed and intelligence and pray that Schartz made a fatal mistake.

The orc stepped to the left and Legolas unconsciously mirrored the action, adopting a battle stance. He could feel that glass wall that always came when he fought, the wall that cut him off from his surroundings and any superfluous thoughts, leaving him devoid of all feeling, even pain, incapable of seeing the enemy as anything other than a moving target . . . Legolas felt this and as always there was a small, dark part of him that welcomed it. Estel and the other orcs were forgotten about, the reason for the fight discarded. All that existed, all that _could_ exist, was himself, the enemy and this moment of waiting, balanced so finely that a single movement would shatter it . . .

Schartz lunged and Legolas dropped, throwing himself to the right. He landed on all fours like a cat and sprang back up, swinging a fist intended for Schartz's head. The orc blocked him easily and aimed a swipe at Legolas' midsection that the prince only narrowly missed.

The light – get him into the sunlight. The orc would be at a disadvantage and Legolas' chances would be that much higher. Accordingly the elf began to dance backwards, goading Schartz closer to the entrance, occasionally attempting attacks of his own.

Schartz, though, was not as unintelligent as most of his kind and he realised what Legolas was trying to do. Snarling, he threw himself at the elf, who, unprepared for the frontal attack, was knocked to the floor.

For a moment it seemed as though Schartz would surely win; then Legolas kicked out blindly, moving purely on instinct. Adrenalin lent the elf strength and the orc was thrown roughly away. Now Legolas was on top, struggling to get a firm grip on the creature's thick neck, hoping to strangle it to death.

It was a useless enterprise. Strong though Legolas was, the sheer bulk of the orc defeated him. Schartz roared and landed a fierce blow on the prince's stomach, sending the elf sprawling. Then the orc reached for his wide belt, drawing out something long and bright . . .

"_Legolas!_"

Even if Legolas had registered Estel's cry, the warning came too late. The prince had already spotted the gleam of the forbidden blade and was trying frantically to rise. But he had landed awkwardly and his leg protested against the movement; meanwhile, the orc's knife moved ever downwards in a path that would surely end in death . . .

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	8. Going home

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**-grins- OK, sorry about that last cliffy . . . read on to find out what happened next!**

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Estel watched, horrified, as Schartz stabbed down towards Legolas' unprotected chest, his own discomforts ceasing to matter. If the elf died now, all would be lost . . . and it seemed inevitable that he would.

Legolas, though, was a better fighter than Estel would have believed possible and he would not let go of life so easily. The elf reached up, grasped the orc's fist with both hands and twisted desperately, trying to deflect the knife from its intended path.

To Estel, the precise sequence of events was never very clear. Schartz was obviously not expecting the prince's defensive movement and he stumbled, thrown off-balance. That much Estel could follow. But then Schartz was roaring and Legolas was holding the knife, which was dripping with dark, thick blood. Somehow the blade had penetrated the orc instead of the elf, although Estel was unsure of how severe the wound was, or even where it had been inflicted.

The other orcs were not concerned with such trivial matters. All they knew was that this elf had killed one of their number and now injured their leader. The time for clever word-games or one-to-one fighting had passed. They wanted blood.

Within seconds Estel's view of the original combatants was blocked as the orcs surged forward. Suspended from the ceiling, the human could only look on hopelessly as the duel turned into a mêlée. The orcs began to turn on each other, vicious in their lust for blood. Swords and knives were drawn, fists used as clubs. A deafening noise filled the cave and Estel felt as though his eardrums would burst.

Suddenly Legolas' blond head appeared from the crush, breathing hard. Miraculously, he seemed to have escaped serious injury and had even managed to recover his weapons.

"Legolas, what are you doing here? Where are my brothers?" Estel hissed, knowing that the elf would hear him even against the cacophony of the fighting.

The prince ignored him, looking round to check that none of the orcs were paying them any attention. He sliced at the bonds around the man's limbs, dropping him roughly to the floor. "Can you walk?"

Estel could not hear the words, but he understood the gist of what Legolas was asking. He stood shakily. His legs felt reasonably solid – it was his back that pained him. "Yes, I think so."

Legolas put his mouth closer to the human's ear. "Then get into one of those tunnels and keep your head down. I will return later, understand?"

"Yes, but - "

"_Go_!" Legolas pushed Estel none too gently in the required direction and whirled round to face the orcs again. The lumbering creatures had taken advantage of the opportunity to settle a few old scores and two or three corpses already littered the ground. Legolas took a deep breath and dived back into the fray, dodging several badly aimed blows as he did so. He was looking for the wounded Schartz – if he could just get the orcs away from the cave . . .

Schartz was furious. That cursed elf had stabbed him in the side – not a particularly serious injury, but a painful one – and now he had lost control of his small horde. All thoughts of gaining information on Rivendell had fled his mind, replaced by fierce ideas of vengeance on the elf.

He did not have to wait long for his chance. Legolas had managed to get back across to the entrance and his blood-streaked face was staring straight at Schartz.

"I'll make you pay for this, elf," Schartz growled, rising finally to his feet.

Legolas snorted. "Really? I would suggest that you sort out your own troops first. After all, we have already proved that you have no chance of beating me single-handedly." He turned and walked calmly away, hoping that Schartz would take the bait.

Sure enough, he had not gone more than half a dozen steps when he heard a roar that drowned out the fighting, a roar that almost caused the mountain to vibrate. It screamed out something in the Black Speech, causing a pain in Legolas' ears. He turned to look back and saw all seven of the surviving orcs – including Schartz – come streaming out of the cave.

Wondering if his plan had really been so wise, Legolas ran for all he was worth.

---------

Estel crouched in the shadows, forgotten, listening to the footsteps fading away. He closed his eyes in pain. Now that there were no distractions, his back was beginning to throb angrily.

The young man leaned his head back against the rough stone, waiting and worrying.

---------

Elladan allowed the corpse to fall back on the ground. "That is Estel's arrow, no doubt about it."

Elrohir bit his lip, looking around the deserted campsite. "Then he has been taken."

His twin nodded, standing up. "And if they've gone up into the mountains, as they almost certainly have, our chances of finding them are slim at best."

Elrohir turned slightly and surveyed the Misty Mountains, his heart sinking. Defiant, he tried to find a shred of optimism. "They cannot have gone that far and we have plenty of elves. We should find them before – well, before."

"And what of Legolas? Do you think he was captured as well?"

The younger twin stood for a moment, considering. "No, I doubt it," he said at last, almost reluctantly. "Say what you will, he's obviously talented with that bow of his. I think there would have been more than one body here if Legolas and Estel had been together."

"Hmm, I suppose so," agreed Elladan, pushing the prince to the back of his mind. Wherever the Silvan elf was, he could surely take care of himself. Estel was more important now. "How long until the others get here?"

"We have sent runners out. They should be here soon," replied Elrohir. Elladan shook his head.

"Too much time has been lost already. We will be too late if we linger here. We must go now. Are you coming?"

Elrohir snorted softly. "As if you need to ask. I will let the others know – they can catch us up."

Elladan nodded absent-mindedly as his twin moved away, his eyes returning to the mountains. He was convinced of the need to hurry and yet he could not rid himself of a terrible conviction that Estel was already lost, that they had tarried too long . . .

His fist clenched. _No_.

-----------

Legolas pounded up another steep gradient, pushing his body to its limits. The orcs were close behind and while the elf had succeeded in drawing them away from the cave, he had absolutely no idea what to do next. Skilful as the prince was, he could not defeat seven of them on his own.

An arrow whizzed past his head, close enough to nick his scalp. Legolas faltered. He had not realised that this particular group of orcs included an archer and running ahead like this made the elf an easy target.

Hurriedly Legolas ducked around the next corner and unslung his bow, stringing two arrows at once. The time for confrontation was upon him and he had no wish to be fighting closely with more orcs than was absolutely necessary.

Praying for luck, Legolas stepped out in front of the oncoming orcs and shot. Both arrows flew true, as did the next two. Now there were just the two orcs and Schartz left. All three were too close for archery.

Legolas cast aside his bow and took up his knives. The first orc charged him and the elf sidestepped, struggling to keep to the narrow path. One brief glance down the fearsome drop on the other side was enough to convince the prince that falling would not be a good idea.

Unfortunately, that left little room to fight and the elf's superior speed could not be used to its full advantage. Against one orc this would not be a great problem – against three, it was slightly more of a handicap. Tactics were hardly relevant; it was a straightforward battle for survival.

This being so, Legolas lost no time in stabbing the closest orc through its black heart. His aim was precise and the creature died quickly, its warm blood making Legolas' grasp of his dagger slippery. The prince pulled his weapon back, barely dodging a brutal blow from the second orc. This one, the elf realised dimly, must be the archer; before Legolas could move away, it thrust a dark arrow deep into his shoulder.

Legolas let out an involuntary cry of pain as he fell towards the path, but did not let his concentration slide. Turning on his way down, he stretched out his legs and scythed, knocking the orc off its feet. Before the beast could react, the prince's dagger had found its throat.

A triumphant growl filled the air. Schartz leaned over Legolas, pinning the elf to the ground and forcing him to let go of his weapons. When the orc spoke, his saliva sprayed Legolas' face and the prince flinched in distaste.

"So it's you an' me, elf. An' it won't be _you_ walkin' away, that much I promise you."

The orc reached out and cruelly twisted the arrow still embedded in Legolas' shoulder. The elf writhed, his face going pale. Schartz laughed, revealing large brown teeth that came to savage points.

"You know, you'd make a fine meal, a pretty thing like you. Maybe I should bleed you, bring out the flavour in the meat, what d'you reckon?"

One sharp claw traced Legolas' jugular and the elf redoubled his efforts to get free, ignoring the protests from his shoulder. If he could only find something to push against –

Schartz shifted his position slightly and Legolas seized his chance. Spreading his hands against the stone, the prince pushed himself up as hard as he could, rolling as he did so. Schartz was caught unawares and released his grip, pitching dangerously over the sheer drop below. Legolas gave one more violent twist and the orc tipped over; down he fell, to a certain death on the rocks some hundreds of feet below.

Legolas' feeling of relief lasted for a split-second before it was replaced by a horror as Schartz's scrabbling hands caught at his ankle. The weight of the orc pulled the prince over the edge and only a hasty grab at a small jutting rock prevented him from falling.

Luckily it was his right arm that had grasped the tiny handhold, thus avoiding straining his injured shoulder. Even so, Schartz was unbelievably heavy and the rough rock was cutting into Legolas' palm. The elf knew he would be unable to hang on for longer than a few seconds unless he got rid of the orc.

This, however, was easier said than done. Schartz was determined not to let go and his claws were digging fiercely into Legolas' ankle. The elf kicked as hard as he could, but the orc hung on grimly.

"Don't think you'll get rid of me that bloody easy! If I fall, you're a goner too!"

Legolas gritted his teeth, ignoring Schartz's shouts. He moved his legs up and down in a running motion, his customary calm beginning to desert him. His hand slipped slightly – no more than a thousandth of an inch, if that, but to the elf it felt like half a foot – and another burst of adrenalin shot through the prince's system. He kicked harder and finally felt his boot begin to slip off, pulled down by Schartz's bulk.

The orc yelled and tried to grab Legolas' other foot, but the attempt was futile. Screaming oaths and curses, Schartz fell, eventually silenced by the crunch as he hit the ground.

Freed of the extra weight, Legolas easily found a purchase on the craggy rock. Slowly and agonisingly, the elf inched himself back up to the safety of the path, collapsing on the dusty road.

Once he had regained his breath, Legolas sat up carefully. He fingered the arrow stuck in his shoulder, took a deep breath, grasped the shaft and pulled. The barbed missile came out whole, thankfully, but it caused immense bleeding. Legolas swore and reached for his knife, cutting off part of his tunic sleeve to act as a makeshift bandage.

The bleeding would stop fairly quickly, Legolas knew – elven bodies were swift to heal – but he needed water to cleanse the wound. There was some in his pack, which he had left back in the cave, but the prince did not want to show Estel that he was injured. _Somewhere between here and there must be a small pool of some kind where I can clean myself up._

Wearily, the elf began to retrace his steps.

---------

Estel shivered, goose bumps standing out on his skin. It was cold and dank in the cave, but the human had not dared to move, scared lest the orcs returned. He could clearly see Legolas' pack lying across the entrance and knew that it contained the painkilling herbs he required, but he could not bring himself to cross even that short distance – what if those fallen orcs were not dead at all, but merely unconscious?

The man had lost track of how many minutes or hours had passed by the time Legolas entered the cavern. Estel called out, trying to move his stiff legs.

"Legolas! Legolas. I'm here!"

The elf hurried over.

"Estel, how do you fare?"

"Not wonderfully," gasped Estel, awkwardly standing. Legolas ducked his head under the young man's arm, supporting him. Estel winced as the elf's arm pressed against his back.

"Come on, Estel, over here. Then we can see to your wounds."

Estel nodded, taking a little bit more of his own weight. They reached the entrance and the human sank gratefully down in the glorious sunlight.

"Are all the orcs gone?"

"All of them," confirmed Legolas, fetching his pack and hunting through it for the herbs he wanted. "How does your back feel?"

"Like it's on fire," admitted Estel. "Where are my brothers?"

Legolas did not answer his question. "Hold still. I need to wash the dirt from these cuts and it will sting."

Estel gritted his teeth as the prince applied a wet cloth to his raw back. The cleaning seemed to last a long time and the man had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out.

"All right, I have finished," said Legolas and Estel relaxed slightly. "Which of these lotions is best for cuts? They are different to the ones we have in Mirkwood."

"The light green one," replied Estel. He had been well schooled in the art of healing by both Lord Elrond and his mother. "Legolas, where are my brothers?"

The gentle fingers administering the cool ointment paused for a moment, and then continued. "I do not know. I have not seen them since yesterday lunch."

Estel twisted his head round so that he could see the elf. "What do you mean? Didn't you tell them where you were going?"

"Didn't you?" retorted the prince sharply. "I did not have time to run around after two practical jokers, not when you were already in the orcs' hands. As it happens, you were lucky. Had I not asked the trees about that pathetic hole of yours, I would never have known of your capture."

Estel had forgotten about the hole and the trick he and his brothers had planned. Another comment of Legolas' caught his attention. "You asked the trees? You can talk to trees?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course," responded Legolas, packing away his things. "I _am_ a wood elf – a fact that you and the twins seem to have difficulty remembering." He looked at the human curiously. "Why did you leave Imladris?"

Estel blushed slightly. "I saw a strange camp and I thought I ought to find out what it was."

It was Legolas' turn to look incredulous. "You deliberately went to investigate an orc camp?"

"I didn't know they were orcs!" protested Estel, defending himself as best he could. "I just - "

The prince shook his head. "It is high time we returned to Imladris, so that Lord Elrond can have a look at your back. I am no healer and besides, I have little experience with mortals. You can explain yourself there."

The elf shouldered his bow and Estel was puzzled to notice a small wince. In fact, now that he thought about it, Legolas appeared bruised and dishevelled.

"Legolas, are you all right? What happened to your boots and sleeve?"

"Casualties of war," answered the prince, a small smile on his lips. "Can you walk unaided?"

Estel eyed his companion suspiciously, but he could see no sign of a serious injury. Legolas seemed hale and hearty, his thick cloak slung over his shoulders. "I think so," he sighed, rising gingerly.

"Then we will not lose any more time. Come on."

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	9. Accusations and explanations

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**Thank you again for all the lovely reviews, hope you all like this chapter.**

**-----------**

A loud elvish curse rang out as Elladan began to lose the last remaining shreds of his patience. "By all the Valar, how many does that make it? It will be a miracle if we ever find them."

Elrohir gazed at the dead end before them (the same one that Legolas had faced that morning, had they but known it) as though his stare would cause it to melt away. He did not want to vocalise the thought, but he was beginning to agree with his twin. It was well past midday and they had been searching for hours without result. The mountains were so _vast_, that was the problem.

"Maybe - "

A piercing whistle interrupted Elladan. It sounded twice, paused, and then gave another two short blasts. Elladan looked at his brother, a faint hope returning.

"They have found something!"

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"Come on, Estel. We are nearly there."

The man groaned. "You've been saying that since we started, Legolas. I'm not sure I believe you any more."

"Ah, but this time I mean it," replied the elf. "Look, the ground flattens out just down there. Then it will take just over an hour to reach Imladris, maybe a few more to actually get to the house."

Estel bent over, his hands on his knees. "I cannot walk for that long, not without a rest. Legolas, can't we stop for a moment?"

The prince helped Estel stand, supporting him as much as possible. "No. We will stop at the bottom, I promise, but until then we need to keep moving. Come on, it is not far now."

"All right, all right." Estel staggered onwards, leaning on Legolas far more than he would have liked. His back still hurt, despite the healing salve, but there was more to it than that – he simply felt bone-achingly weary, every inch of his body in pain. The young man did not tell Legolas of this, for he did not want to appear weak, but all he wanted to do was lie down and not get up for a very, very long time.

"We are here, Estel. We can have a short break now," announced Legolas presently, relinquishing his grip on the man. In truth, the prince was glad of the respite. His shoulder was hurting more than it should and half-carrying his companion down the mountains had not helped. Estel was a well-built young man and his weight was not insignificant.

"How are you feeling?" Legolas was slightly concerned about the man, whose condition had been deteriorating steadily since they had left the cave.

"Like death warmed up. Have we any water left?"

Legolas fished the flask out of his pack and handed it to Estel. The human drank deeply before apparently remembering his manners and proffering the flask back to Legolas. The elf shook his head.

"Ten minutes, Estel, then we should set off again," he warned.

Estel murmured acceptance of this time limit and stretched out on his front, trying not to put any undue pressure on his back. "Legolas, I – I wanted to say thank you. I mean for coming after me and getting rid of the orcs like that. It was – well, it was very brave of you."

"Brave?" Legolas' tone was light. "Alas, I am afraid that my reasons for coming after you were slightly more base. It would have done our trade agreements no good at all if I had returned bearing news of your disappearance, having done nothing to prevent it."

Estel scrutinised the elf closely, unsure if he was joking. A twitch of the prince's mouth gave the game away and Estel laughed, forgetting his aches for a moment.

"Seriously, Legolas, _hannon le_. I owe you my life."

The prince waved a dismissive hand. "Do not dwell on it, Estel. Just try to think a bit more about your actions in future."

"I will. And I'm sorry about the hole, too. It was a silly idea."

"A futile one, if nothing else. Laying a woodland trap for an elf of Mirkwood? It was doomed to failure, as your brothers should have known."

"Mmm," agreed Estel, his mind flying back to the twins. "Where do you think they are? They won't know what's happened, what if they're out looking for me? They'll be worried."

"There is not much we can do if they are," replied Legolas practically. "You should have told them what you were up to. They might have persuaded you to stay and there would not have been a problem."

Estel made a face, searching to turn the conversation away from his stupidity. "What's Mirkwood really like, Legolas? I've heard a lot about it, but I've never had a proper picture of it in my mind."

Legolas' eyes lit up at the thought of his beloved forest. "It is beautiful, Estel, regardless of the creeping shadow that haunts us now. In days gone by it was known as Greenwood the Great and all manner of birds and animals called it home – indeed, many still do. We have numerous streams and brooks and the whole is so big that to explore it thoroughly takes decades. The sunlight filters through the trees, so that the very air is green and earthy, while the rain . . ."

Lulled by the elf's musical voice, Estel allowed himself to drift away into a world of dreams, where his flesh no longer pained him and everything was good . . .

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"I have never seen anything like this. They seem to have turned against one another, look. No elf or man killed these beasts."

Elladan's words could not be denied. There were five orc corpses scattered on the floor and all of them appeared to have been killed by their own kind. Elrohir turned to Faromel, one of the healers who had volunteered to search.

"How long have they been dead?"

Faromel shrugged his shoulders. "It is impossible to say for certain, but I would estimatethree hours at least. And my lords - "

The healer hesitated and both twins stared at him. "What, Faromel?" asked Elladan impatiently.

"We have found blood – human blood, to be precise, leading away from here. The evidence suggests that Estel was here for a time and then left. We do not think that orcs were with him, but we are not sure."

The brothers looked at each other, the same thoughts running through their minds. A trail could only be good news – it meant they were getting closer – but if Estel was injured, time may have already run out.

Elrohir's hand settled on the hilt of his sword. "Faromel, gather the others. We must move quickly if we are to catch up."

The dark-haired elf nodded and moved off. The twins headed out of the gloomy cave, determined to find their little brother.

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"And in the spring, when the weather improves again - " Legolas broke off abruptly, suddenly aware that he had been talking for much longer than ten minutes. His shoulder ached still and he rubbed it absently. "Estel? Are you awake?"

The man lay on his front, eyes closed.

"Estel?" Legolas shook his companion gently. "Estel, we need to leave." Frowning, the elf felt Estel's forehead. It was feverish – far hotter than it ought to be – and the man's injured back was red and inflamed. Legolas cursed as he realised the full significance of this.

_Those whips the orcs used . . . they must have had something on them. Why did I not think of this earlier?_ It did not have to be poison, Legolas knew. Even the grease that the creatures used to oil their weapons could infect a young elf or human with little resistance. Estel would be a prime target, having lived a sheltered life in Imladris and therefore not having had the chance to build up any resistance against the orcs' foul concoctions.

"Hang on, Estel. We will get you home." All of Legolas' dwindling strength was required to lift the bulky human and he felt the arrow wound begin to bleed sluggishly. Disregarding it, he awkwardly shifted his position until he could walk reasonably quickly while not aggravating Estel's back further.

Grimly, the elf headed back towards Imladris.

-----------

"Ouch! Oh, this dratted thing!"

"Gilraen!" Elrond turned, startled by the clatter. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Lord Elrond," replied Gilraen, soaking her hand in a convenient bowl of cold water. "I was just trying to make a cup of tea, but the wretched cup slipped and it went all over me."

"Gilraen, calm down," said Elrond gently, righting the errant cup. "They will send a runner as soon as there is any news."

"But why haven't they found him yet?" burst out the distraught woman. "A runner came over an hour ago to say they'd found a trail! Surely they must have some idea by now of what's happened."

Elrond rubbed her back soothingly, murmuring comforting platitudes. He hated to see Gilraen so upset, especially when there was nothing he could do to console her.

The quiet moment was broken by Erestor's noisy entry into the study. "My lord!"

Elrond looked up, surprised to see his usually unflappable councillor so excited. "Erestor?"

"Lord Elrond, Prince Legolas has returned – and he has Estel with him."

"Estel!" Gilraen practically flew to Erestor's side, her scalded hand forgotten. "Where is he? Is he well? What - "

Erestor raised a hand to stem the flood of questions. "They are both in the healing wing with Berihûn. Estel's back is marked by whips, but the prince does not seem badly injured."

Both Elrond and Gilraen headed swiftly for the healing rooms. There they found the unconscious Estel, facedown on a bed. Berihûn, Imladris' chief healer, save for Elrond, was already attending to the man's wounds as Legolas watched from the side of the room.

"Estel! Estel, speak to me!" Gilraen was crying, the tears born out of relief and fear. She whirled round to face Legolas. "What happened?"

The prince looked trapped. "He ventured beyond the borders – we were separated - "

"You let him go off on his own? Just like that? What were you thinking? Anything could have happened! How could you have been so irresponsible? I - "

"That is enough, Gilraen," Elrond said. "Legolas, you and I will talk more of this later, so that I may ascertain the precise nature of events." His words carried an undertone of displeasure that was not lost on the younger elf. "Until then, I would appreciate it if you both left the room and gave us some space."

"No," said Gilraen stubbornly. "I am sorry, my lord, but I am not leaving."

"Please, Gilraen," said Elrond patiently. "I need you to make sure a message is sent to the twins, letting them know that they can come home. Estel is in the best possible hands, you know that."

The woman hesitated, then nodded, turning to go. Legolas made to follow her and Elrond noticed the state that the prince was in.

"Legolas, do you need a healer yourself?"

The prince shook his head mutely. Elrond sighed resignedly. "Go away, then. I will come and find you later."

Legolas slipped out of the door after Gilraen and Elrond turned to Berihûn. "How badly is he hurt?"

"Prince Legolas says he was whipped by orcs, but the cuts do not appear dangerous in themselves," said the healer stoically. "What worries me more is this fever. Apparently he was complaining of aching and tiredness before he fell unconscious. I fear it is some kind of infection."

"A fast-working one, if it is," pointed out Elrond and the taciturn Berihûn grunted in reply. "How long has he been unconscious?"

"A little over three hours, according to the prince. I do not think he is in any immediate danger, Elrond, but I would like to get that temperature down."

"All right." Elrond cast a worried glance at his adopted son. "Did Legolas say how Estel came to be captured in the first place?"

Berihûn frowned. "Not really. I did not ask. I have the impression that the prince followed Estel and helped him escape, but I am not certain of the facts."

Elrond nodded, gathering needle and thread. Some of those cuts would have to be sewn shut. _Hold on, Estel_.

---------

Legolas emerged into the corridor to see Gilraen and Erestor talking quietly. He ignored them, hoping to slip away quietly to his room, but luck was not on his side. Gilraen stepped out, blocking his path, while Erestor hurried off in the other direction.

Gilraen looked at the prince, her eyes still bright with tears. "What happened, Legolas? Why did Estel go off on his own?" Her voice was hard, an accusation in her tone.

The prince put a hand to his temples. His head was pounding fiercely for some reason and he urgently needed some sleep after the draining journey from the mountains to Imladris. He was not in the mood to be interrogated. "I was helping Estel with his tracking and the path forked. He thought we should take one each – he insisted that he would be fine. I did not see any reason to refuse - "

"You did not see any reason to refuse?" repeated Gilraen in disbelief. If she noticed the elf's discomfort, she did not bother to acknowledge it. "Legolas, he is still a child! You should have known better – would you have sent an elfling off on their own?"

"He is an adult in mortal terms," retorted Legolas, feeling put-upon. None of this had been his fault – he had _saved_ Estel. And all he had received for his pains were an agonising shoulder and a horrendous headache that refused to go away. "If he is incapable of watching out for himself, then somebody should have told me. I cannot read minds."

Gilraen scowled. All the anger and fear that had been building up since Estel went missing poured out of her now in a deadly torrent. "Don't you _dare_ speak to me like that! You are a prince, allegedly, more than capable of taking care of others as well as yourself. Why didn't you bother with Estel? Is it because he is human – isn't he worth the effort?"

Legolas drew himself up, his own wrath beginning to stir. "Do not be so ridiculous. You do not know what happened."

"I'm not being ridiculous!" shouted Gilraen, the last vestiges of self-control gone. She was crying openly now, the sobs muffling her words. "My son could be dying in there, for all I know! And I can tell you this, Prince Legolas – if anything does happen to my boy, you can forget your trade talks. It will be war that you'll be dealing with, not business!"

Legolas turned on his heel and stalked away before he said or did something he would regret. A small part of him dimly realised that Gilraen did not truly mean all she said, but that did not make it any easier to accept. The prince was afraid, too, that what the woman had said about the trade talks was true. It was not hard to envision a scenario where Elrond also blamed Legolas and sent him home in disgrace. What then of Mirkwood?

The Silvan elf entered his room and dropped his bow wearily onto the bed. He felt violently ill and the room appeared to be swaying slightly. Groaning, Legolas made his way to the small sink in the corner, dunking his head in the cool water. Feeling marginally better, he threw open the window and sat by it, trying to determine the best course of action.

-----------

"Gilraen!"

Gilraen looked up to see the twins hurrying towards her. They were both breathing heavily and had clearly just run a substantial distance.

"We came as quickly as we could," said Elladan. "I cannot believe we spent all that time searching when Estel and Legolas were already on their way home!"

"How is he?" asked Elrohir anxiously, noting Gilraen's red eyes.

"I don't know," she replied, making a gesture of hopelessness. "He was unconscious when Legolas brought him back . . . your father and Berihûn are in there now with him. They've been in there for over two hours, but I don't know what's happening."

Before the twins could respond to this, Berihûn came out of the healing room, stripping off his gloves. He looked surprised to be immediately accosted by Gilraen, Elladan and Elrohir, all demanding to know Estel's condition.

"He is fine, honestly," he assured them. "Sewing those cuts was fiddly and time-consuming, that is all. He will be up and about in no time."

"Can we go in?" asked Gilraen.

Berihûn considered. "I don't see why not – but be quiet!" he called after the three retreating backs.

---------

Gilraen breathed a sigh of relief to see her son sleeping normally and peacefully. He looked much better than the unconscious body Legolas had dragged in earlier.

"I thought I'd lost him," she whispered, stroking Estel's forehead.

"So did we," agreed Elrohir. "We were going out of our minds with worry."

"But we have him back now," said Elladan optimistically. He looked at his father. "You're sure he won't wake up until tomorrow?"

Elrond nodded firmly. "I have given him a mild sedative. He will not awake tonight – he needs the rest."

"Oh, Estel," murmured Gilraen. "What on Middle-Earth possessed you to go off on your own like that? If you'd only stayed with Legolas . . ."

Elrond's sharp eyes caught the fleeting guilty looks that crossed the twins' faces. "I do not suppose you two know anything about that?"

Elladan looked at Elrohir, who tilted his head slightly. Trying to keep things from Lord Elrond was a fruitless exercise. The older twin cleared his throat nervously.

"Well, it was part of a trick we were playing on Legolas."

"A trick? You mean another of your practical jokes?" interjected Gilraen incredulously.

Elrond frowned. "Carry on, Elladan." His son obeyed, looking ashamed. He explained about the hole and the fake trail, how Estel had been instructed to leave Legolas and meet the twins elsewhere.

"But he never turned up and when we went to the hole, Legolas was not there. The rest you know."

"I wish I did," snapped Elrond. "So this was all started by this ridiculous rivalry you have with the prince?"

"It was not meant to end like this," Elrohir said quietly. "We did not think that Estel would leave Imladris completely."

Gilraen's hand had slowly risen to her mouth while Elladan was speaking. She looked horror-struck. "Lord Elrond, I need to find Legolas. I didn't know any of this and I – I told him off for not staying with Estel. I said that it was his fault; I thought maybe he just hadn't been bothered about Estel. If what the twins say is true, I should apologise."

"So should they," pointed out Elrond. He looked at his sons. "Particularly as the prince was the one to find Estel and bring him back. Do you want to go and find him?"

The twins could recognise an instruction when they heard one and they lost no time in leaving the small room. Gilraen looked up at Elrond.

"Did he wake at all? Did he say – will he remember what's happened?"

"No, he did not wake. I should think he will remember, though. Hopefully he will give us the full story tomorrow, but as far as I can work out, it was simply a case of misplaced curiosity. Estel was fortunate that Legolas followed him. Had it been otherwise . . ."

Gilraen took a deep, shuddering breath. "I do not want to think of it. Lord Elrond, what am I to say to Legolas? I accused him of abandoning Estel, when now it seems that he rescued him."

"I think - "

What Elrond thought went unrecorded as Elrohir burst in. "_Ada_! It's Legolas – he has collapsed in his room and he's not breathing!"

_------------_

**Please review . . . next post should be up in a couple of days.**


	10. Decision

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**/grins nervously/ Um, sorry? Hope this chapter was posted quickly enough! Just as a note, this is the last chapter to be reposted – chapter 11 onwards is all brand new, so we'll see how it goes!**

**-----------**

Elrond wasted no time, heading straight for the door. He called back over his shoulder. "Gilraen, find Berihûn. Tell him I need him back here immediately."

Gilraen paused, reluctant to leave her unconscious son alone. Eventually she gave Estel's hand one last squeeze and followed the path Berihûn had taken earlier, praying that the healer had not strayed far.

Meanwhile, Elrond hurried towards the prince's room, berating himself for not having forced the younger elf to see a healer. He had been so worried about Estel that he had been prepared to take Legolas' declaration of health at face value, when it should have been obvious that the prince was hurt.

The elf lord burst into the guest room, Elrohir close on his heels. For a moment he could see nothing untoward and then he spotted Elladan stood by the window. The twin's face bore a curious mixture of fear and guilt and Elrond felt his stomach clench. _Surely it is not too late!_

He rounded the bed and knelt beside the stricken prince. Legolas was leaning heavily against the window, eyes closed. Urgently searching for signs of life, Elrond spoke tersely to his sons. "What happened?"

Elladan shook his head. "We don't know, _Ada_. We came in and found him like this. _Ada_, his shoulder . . ."

Elrond had already spotted the oozing wound that the twins had uncovered and it worried him. The skin around it was red and inflamed, with tiny purple threads running away from it. Whatever toxin had invaded Legolas' body, it was spreading quickly.

"I need you both to help me carry him to the healing wing. He is breathing," said Elrond, forestalling Elrohir's question, "but only just. Elrohir, get that blanket from the bed; we will roll him onto it. Yes, like that. Now, Elladan, you take his head and shoulders. Try not to move that shoulder more than absolutely necessary. Elrohir, you take the feet and I will support his body. Ready? On my count of three, then . . ."

The twins scrambled into their positions. At Elrond's signal the three elves lifted Legolas up and made their way towards the healing wing, taking care to keep the archer as still as possible. They were glad to see Berihûn waiting for them there, in the room adjoining Estel's. Gilraen was nowhere to be seen, having presumably returned to her son's side.

Berihûn let out a low whistle when he saw the prince, the closest he ever came to admitting surprise. "I thought he did not need to see a healer?"

"Apparently he was mistaken," replied Elrond dryly. "Berihûn, there is some kind of poison at work here. He has an arrow wound in his shoulder and I fear it was almost certainly an orc arrow."

The tall elf understood what his lord was saying. "They would have smeared that vile brew over the arrows as well?"

"They must have done. It would take longer for Legolas to be affected, but then he may have received a stronger dose. Even so, the usual antidote should work." The unimaginative orcs tended only to use the one basic poison and the Rivendell elves had found the cure many years ago. Supplies were always kept in storage, just in case.

Berihûn shook his head. "My lord, we have none left."

Elrond looked up sharply. "None left? What do you mean, none left?"

Berihûn explained. "We cleared out the storerooms last week and most of that particular medicine was out of date. The last of it we used for Estel, to combat those whip marks."

Now that it was mentioned, Elrond remembered draining the bottle of antidote barely an hour ago. He had assumed that there was plenty more, but it appeared he was wrong. Why had Berihûn not made more when he had thrown away the out of date stock?

This, though, was hardly the time for recriminations. Elrond sighed. "Then I will have to brew some more, quickly. I have the ingredients."

Berihûn looked doubtfully at Legolas, who was deathly pale. "That will take time, my lord – time that I am not sure we have."

"Nor am I, Berihûn. But I do not see that we have a choice." Elrond turned away, walking quickly towards the small brewing room. He was trying not to let his worry surface, but it was a hard task. If Legolas' condition had been noted earlier, they would have had more time to play with. Now, though . . . why had the prince refused a healer earlier? Elrond made a mental note to put the question to Legolas. _Assuming I get the chance . . ._

_----------_

Berihûn sighed. Without the antidote to the orc poison, all he could do was treat Legolas' symptoms. His first priority was to slow the elf's rapid pulse and if possible ease his breathing. He crossed the room to the medicine cupboard, looking for the necessary infusions.

"Berihûn, is there anything we can do to help?" asked Elladan. Both twins felt guilty for their part in this disaster. Although they did not get on with Legolas, neither wished the Mirkwood elf any serious harm.

The healer shook his head. "Not really, my lords. The most we can do now is to try and keep him stable until your father has prepared the antidote."

"You are sure it is that particular poison?" Elrohir asked softly. "He looks worse than any victim I have ever seen." His words could not be denied. The Mirkwood prince was pale and waxy, the rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible. His eyes were closed, while the multiple bruises and scrapes stood out lividly against the ashen skin.

"We are as sure as we can be. It would be unusual for local orcs to use a different toxin, especially when you consider that Estel was infected with the usual poison," replied Berihûn calmly, applying some sort of poultice to Legolas' throat. He glanced towards the twins. "The wound has been left untreated for several hours and carrying Estel back from the mountains must have aggravated it. It is only a wonder that Legolas did not fall before now."

Elladan looked up sharply. "He carried Estel all the way back here, from the mountains?"

"So I am given to understand. Apparently the two sat down to rest for a few minutes and Estel lost consciousness. Prince Legolas could not rouse him, so he carried him. No small feat, considering this." Berihûn gestured at the angry looking arrow wound.

Elrohir bit his lip and reached for his brother's reassuring hand. It seemed that their practical joke would have far reaching repercussions.

---------

Estel opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. His head was pounding and his body felt like a sack of lead. _Surely it is not natural for the sun to be that bright?_

Slowly the man sat up, wincing as he felt his sore back. Someone had bandaged it neatly, but the wounds still chafed. Not only that, but his muscles felt stiff, as though they had been inactive for a long time.

His eyes adjusting to the light, Estel looked around. He recognised the room easily enough from childhood scrapes and maladies. This was the healing wing, which begged the question of where everyone was – and what had happened?

The young man rubbed his temples, thinking back to yesterday. The hunting trip – he could not find the twins – the orcs! The memories poured back, of how Legolas had arrived just in time and the two of them had set off back home. They had reached the bottom of the mountains and then what? No matter how Estel tried, he could not remember anything beyond that. Maybe Legolas or _Ada_ would know, wherever they were.

Awkwardly, Estel got out of bed, stumbling slightly as his aching legs took his weight. He stood for a moment, flexing his limbs and feeling life return to them. Barefoot, the man padded across to the door, still mystified as to the apparent non-existence of everyone else.

Out in the corridor, away from the well-soundproofed healing room, the reasons became clear. There was some sort of commotion going on in the next room and he could hear his mother's voice.

Silently Estel went to the open doorway and could not restrain a gasp at what he saw. Legolas, easily recognisable by his long blond hair, lay on the bed, his eyes closed. Berihûn's dark head obscured the prince's face as the healer pounded rhythmically on Legolas' chest.

"Come on Legolas, don't give up, just breathe, come on, stay with us . . ." Gilraen kept up a constant stream of comforting words as she grasped the prince's hand – the same way she held _his_ hand when he was ill, realised Estel with a slight stab of jealousy.

Berihûn paused in his arduous task, long fingers searching out Legolas' neck. Whatever the healer found there, it did not appear to please him. He grimaced and turned to the twins, who were standing at the foot of the bed. No one had yet noticed Estel skulking in the doorway.

"Elladan, find Elrond and ask him how much longer he plans to be. Tell him we do not have that much time."

The older twin nodded and whirled round, only to collide with his much younger brother.

"Estel!"

Gilraen looked up and rushed to embrace her fragile son, temporarily abandoning her place at the prince's side.

The man began to ask urgent questions – what was going on, how badly injured was Legolas, where was Elrond – but Berihûn's strident voice cut across the confused babble. "Elladan, get going! Estel, back to bed, you should not be up and about – Elrohir, you go with him. Gilraen, will you please come back here, I may need you."

Elladan slipped out of the door, but before the others could obey the healer's orders, Elrond strode into the room, his eldest son at his heels. He swept across to the bed, ignoring Estel.

"He was already coming, I didn't have to go far," explained Elladan to an uninterested audience.

"You arrive not a moment too soon, my lord," said Berihûn. "He cannot last much longer."

"So I see." Elrond's mouth was set in a grim line. "Will he swallow?"

The healer shook his head, his expression matching Elrond's. "I doubt it. Even if he will, that way will take too long. We need to introduce it directly into his bloodstream." He passed Elrond a small knife. "Gilraen, keep a tight grip on him. He should not move, but you never know."

The woman nodded, returning to the prince. Elladan, Elrohir and Estel waited by the door, watching nervously as their father made a small nick in the prince's arm. Bright red blood swelled up and Berihûn quickly strapped a cloth steeped in Elrond's antidote over the cut. The elf lord stepped back with a sigh.

"We have done as much as we can now. I only hope it is enough. _Hannon le_, Berihûn." Elrond looked round, appearing to notice his youngest son for the first time. "Estel, why are you out of bed?"

The man fidgeted nervously. "Well, I – I - "

The elf lord raised an eyebrow. "What a cogent explanation. Back to bed, Estel. I have many questions I would like answers to, if you are feeling better. As does your mother, I am sure."

"Just a few," agreed Gilraen, fixing her son with a steely glare. "Are you all right here, Berihûn?"

"The prince should be fine now that we have the antidote, my lady," replied Berihûn. "I will stay with him for a while though – the poison was in his system for a long time without treatment and I would like to reassure myself that his recovery will not be impeded. If all goes as it should, Legolas will be up and about on the morrow."

The twins breathed a joint sigh of relief at that and Elrond eyed them wryly. "You two can come next door as well," he decided. "I want to talk to all three of you."

Elrond led the way, followed obediently by his sons. Once they were all settled in the small healing room, including Gilraen, he bade Estel sit on the bed so that the young man's bandages could be changed.

"All right, then." Elrond began to carefully unwrap the bandages, trying not to cause too much pain. "What happened, Estel? Why did you leave Rivendell? And how came you to be captured by orcs?"

Estel could not bring himself to meet his mother's anxious eyes. "I saw a camp, not far from the borders. I thought that maybe it was something you should be told about, so I went to have a closer look, but - "

"You went to have a look?" interrupted Gilraen forcefully. "Heavens help us, Estel, you are meant to be an intelligent young man! Why didn't you tell the twins or Legolas what you had seen?"

"They weren't there!" protested Estel. "I didn't know they were orcs, I wouldn't have gone if I did, I just - "

"Peace, Estel," soothed Elrond. "Calm down. Tell us exactly what happened after you and Legolas split up."

Estel took a deep breath. Obediently he related how he had been unable to find the twins (Elladan and Elrohir exchanged guilty glances at this) and all that had happened thereafter. When he finally came to a close, there was a moment of silence in the room.

Gilraen was the first to break it. She reached out and clutched her son tightly, drawing him into a warm embrace. "You imbecile, Estel. Don't you _ever_ do anything like that again, do you hear? If I had lost you . . ." Tears filled her eyes.

Estel returned the hug, his own eyes beginning to water. "I'm sorry, Nana." He turned to Elrond. "What is wrong with Legolas? Is it – is it serious?"

"It should not be," replied the elf lord, his dark eyes scanning Estel intensely. "It would seem that he was wounded by an arrow – shot in the shoulder."

Estel's eyes widened, remembering how Legolas had winced when donning his bow. _I should have seen – should have known!_ "But he will be all right?"

"He will be fine, Estel," reassured Elrond. "I would like to hear the prince's version of events, though. It appears you owe him a great deal, _ion nîn_."

"I know I do," said Estel shamefacedly, looking away. "If he had not come . . . I thought I was going to die."

"Hush, Estel. Do not think of such things." Gilraen caressed her son's brow tenderly. "You should sleep now. Get some rest. You can thank Legolas properly when you are both well again."

Estel nodded. He still felt tired, despite the sleeping draught of the night before. Carefully he lay down on the bed, stifling a yawn.

Gilraen rose to her feet. "Lord Elrond, may I have a word?"

Elrond looked mildly surprised. "Certainly, my lady. After you." He opened the door and the two slipped out, leaving the three brothers alone.

Elrohir collapsed on the bed. "Well, that could have been worse."

Elladan nodded, perched on the bedstead. "I thought _Ada_ would surely lecture us again."

"He might yet," pointed out Estel. He shuffled around, trying to find a comfortable position. "You and your jokes! I swear that this is the last time you get me involved." There was a grin on his lips as he spoke, however, suggesting that Estel did not believe his own words.

Elladan looked affronted. "Are you trying to suggest this is solely our fault? As far as I remember, there was nothing in the plan that required you to walk straight into an orc camp without telling anyone!"

The young man snorted. "It's not that. Did you realise Legolas can talk with the plants? He knew the hole was there long before there was any danger of him falling into it!"

The twins looked at each other. "I told you!" said Elrohir, a note of mock triumph in his voice. "I told you he would spot it!"

"You did not!" objected Elrohir. "In fact, it was your idea in the first place, I seem to recall."

"My idea? I do not think so. No, it was your ill-conceived plan and - "

Estel grinned sleepily. Slowly his eyes drifted shut and he floated off to sleep, lulled by the familiar sound of his brothers' bickering.

-----------------

"I want to tell him, Elrond."

Elrond looked at Gilraen helplessly. The pair were back in his study and Gilraen was standing firm, her arms crossed. The fact that she had addressed Elrond directly, without the customary 'Lord', spoke volumes about her mood.

"Gilraen, he is barely grown. He is too young for such knowledge."

"He will be twenty in a few days," responded Gilraen. "What would you have me do? Keep it from him forever? Estel could have died yesterday and never known who his father really was, what his true lineage is. I cannot let that happen! Can you not see what an insult it is to Arathorn, that we do not allow his son to bear his name?"

Elrond did not speak. To tell Estel of his ancestors, to bestow on him the true name of Aragorn . . . such a step was inevitable, of course. Yet some part of him rebelled. It was too soon, the boy could not be expected to carry such a burden of destiny – but no. That was not his true objection, was it? The truth was far more selfish. Over the past eighteen years (and how quickly they had passed, even by elven standards!) he had grown to love the boy as a son. Estel treated Elrond as a father, even calling him _Ada_, despite the undeniable fact that the relationship was an emotional tie, not a blood one. When Estel – _Aragorn_ – learnt the truth, would he turn against Elrond? The elf lord had always known this day would come, of course, but there had been moments – too many moments – when he had put it out of his mind, had forgotten that Estel had any other relatives or destiny but those which lay within Rivendell.

"Lord Elrond?" Gilraen softened slightly, guessing Elrond's thoughts, but she still stood firm. "If you do not tell him, I will do so alone. He must know of his father and of his fate. The time is now."

She met his eyes. Elrond felt trapped, then angry with himself for feeling such. He was being ridiculous. Of course Estel must be told and sooner was surely better than later.

"You are right, Gilraen. We will tell him, as soon as he has made a full recovery."

Gilraen nodded, satisfied. "It is the only way, my lord." She smiled briefly, sadly and excused herself.

Elrond was left sitting at his desk. He looked at a framed sketch, which had pride of place among all the paraphernalia. In it a chubby, rosy-cheeked Estel was laughing at the antics of a capering Elrohir, while Elladan pretended to be unaware of his twin's prancing. Elrond could remember Gilraen drawing the scene, not long after she had brought her son to Rivendell. It had been a hard time, as Estel adapted to the ways of the elves and Gilraen fought with her grief for Arathorn. That summer day had been the first time Estel had laughed since his arrival.

The elf lord smiled sadly. Estel had had a good childhood, of that he was certain. But now those halcyon days had to be left behind as the boy grew into a man. Elrond could only hope that the resultant changes would not destroy that precious relationship with his youngest son.

---------

**Chapter 11 should be up on Wednesday . . . please review!**


	11. Recovery and celebrations

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**All right, this is the first new chapter . . . I am very nervous about this one (especially as there was over a year between beginning and end!) and so would really like to know your thoughts and responses. I am more than happy to reply individually to reviews – as I am apparently not allowed to do this in the posts, just include your e-mail address on the review and I promise to get back to you asap.**

**One quick note – one reviewer queried why the twins, who are thousands of years old, would call Elrond "Daddy" (Ada). I hope this doesn't jar with too many people, but my own view is that "ada" and "nana" aren't necessarily the baby versions of "adar" and "naneth", but rather the informal mode – much as we use "mum" and "dad" rather than "mother" and "father". This informality fits in with my view of Rivendell, which is why I use those forms here.**

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"Fifteen multiplied by twenty two . . . let me see, one hundred and fifty, three hundred, then add on the twice . . . so three hundred and thirty. Then that needs to be divided by four . . . divided by two is one hundred and fifty – one hundred and sixty five, divided by two again . . . why does it not divide cleanly?"

Legolas frowned slightly, the confusing sums working their way into his consciousness. He shifted, forcing his uncooperative eyes open. Once he had adjusted to the light, he could make out a dark haired elf poring over neat columns of figures.

The prince searched his memory until it threw up a name. "Berihûn?"

The healer looked up, caught off-guard. "Prince Legolas, you are awake?"

"Mm," said Legolas, reluctant to agree. He struggled upwards. "Do you always talk to yourself in that manner?"

Berihûn grinned. "Only when I do the accounts. I never have had much of a head for figures." He put the book to one side and went to inspect his patient. "How do you feel?"

The word "terrible" flashed through Legolas' mind, but he suppressed it. This was not the place for him to admit weakness. "I feel fine," he said instead, trying to remember what had happened. He recalled arguing with Gilraen and fleeing to his room, but what next?

"Fine?" questioned Berihûn. His tone was neutral, but Legolas had a sneaking suspicion he was not believed. In truth, the prince felt somewhat groggy and his shoulder throbbed. "Much as I hate to doubt a prince's word, somehow I cannot believe that you are fine."

"I have been better," admitted Legolas, flexing his shoulder tentatively. He was glad to note that the pain had subsided somewhat. "On the other hand, I have certainly been worse." A thought struck him. "How is Estel?"

Berihûn did not answer immediately, busying himself with taking Legolas' temperature and pulse and checking the rapidly healing wound. Having finally convinced himself that the prince was as well as could be expected, he stepped back. "Well on the road to recovery," he replied. The healer's eyes met Legolas'. "Thanks to you."

Legolas grimaced. "You seem to be the only one who thinks so," he muttered, not without some bitterness. He was about to expand on his comment, describing the argument with Gilraen, when he remembered who he was talking to. For all his friendliness, Berihûn was an elf of Imladris and it would not be diplomatic to treat him as a confidant.

The prince changed tack. "Please, where is my room in relation to here? I would like to change into fresh clothes."

Berihûn looked at him questioningly. "You feel well enough to be up and about? Remember, only a few hours ago you were at death's door."

Legolas raised his eyebrows. He had not realised his condition had been so serious. "Then I cannot thank you enough for leading me away from it. But I feel much better and I would prefer to be in my room." Another thought occurred to him. "How did I come to be here, anyway? The last thing I can remember is sitting at my window."

"The twins entered your room and found you unconscious on the window ledge," replied Elrond, who had come through the door just in time to hear Legolas' question. He gave the young elf a sharp look. "Had they been much later, we would not have been able to save you. Do you care to explain just why you refused a healer when I asked?"

The prince did not look away. "I was not thinking clearly, Lord Elrond. I did not believe the wound so serious and I was reluctant to ask for help. I gave Estel the priority."

Elrond snorted. "While you are in my kingdom, Prince Legolas, you will kindly allow me to decide which patients should be given priority. You should know better than most that hiding injuries is a futile business which can endanger your companions."

Legolas looked down. "I apologise, Lord Elrond. I did not mean to cause such trouble and would humbly beg your forgiveness."

Elrond softened. "Please, Legolas, there is no need to be so formal. As for causing trouble, from what I understand you averted much more than you caused. I would like to hear your side of the story, if you feel well enough."

The blond elf nodded and waited as Elrond settled himself into a chair. Berihûn leant against the wall, preferring to stand as the prince told his tale.

Neither elf interrupted and Elrond sighed as Legolas drew to a close. "Thank you, Legolas. I can only apologise for my sons' behaviour and reiterate our gratitude for bringing Estel back in one piece."

"How is he?" asked Legolas, more out of curiosity and courtesy than concern. Berihûn had said Estel was recovering; Legolas saw no further reason to worry about the impulsive man.

"He is doing well, though obviously upset. It was a gruelling experience for him, as I am sure you can imagine," replied Elrond seriously. He smiled. "But you can ask him yourself – he and the twins are outside, waiting to see you." He moved to the door and before Legolas could lodge a protest, Estel, Elrohir and Elladan trooped into the room. Estel moved stiffly, yet he seemed energetic enough and certainly a vast improvement on the patient Legolas had last seen.

"Legolas!" Estel was the first to speak, the relief evident in his voice. "Thank the Valar you're all right!"

"Mm," agreed Legolas vaguely. "And how do you fare, Estel?" He did not look at the twins, feeling an unexpected anger that he was not sure he could conceal.

"A lot better now," responded the young man earnestly. "Because of you, Legolas. I cannot thank you enough."

"Nor can we," added Elladan, stepping forward and forcing Legolas to look him in the eyes. "We would like to apologise, Legolas, both for the events of the past two days and for all the tricks we have played since you arrived. For our inhospitality, in short."

"Will you forgive us?" queried Elrohir. "We hope that we can all move on from this and perhaps try to be friends."

Legolas felt Elrond's eyes on him and knew that the sons of Imladris were not the only ones expected to make amends. In truth, the twins' heartfelt words had diffused much of his simmering resentment and he found himself answering with genuine feeling. "Your apology is accepted and appreciated, sons of Elrond. I would also say sorry for my own part in it and for any provocation I may have given."

Elrond clapped his hands together. "We are done here, then. This ridiculous feud will come to an end and you will all behave yourselves in a more suitable fashion. I have to say that not one of you has behaved in a way that would bring any credit to your realms."

The four younger beings bowed their heads, accepting Elrond's words with shame. Each of them made a silent vow not to disappoint the elf lord again.

Berihûn spoke quietly from the corner. "Prince Legolas, glad as I am to see you awake and sentient, you still need plenty of rest. Estel, the same applies to you. Back to bed, please."

Estel made a face. "But, Berihûn, I feel fine! Why can't I get up today? It would be good exercise and I promise I won't overdo it."

Elrond shook his head firmly. "Berihûn is right, son. Just rest for today, then you should be fit enough to rise properly tomorrow."

Grumpily, Estel agreed and he went back to his room, accompanied by the twins. Legolas reiterated his request to be allowed to return to his room, which Elrond refused.

"With respect, Legolas, I would feel happier knowing that you are in the healing wing until we can be sure that all the toxin is purged from your body. You are not used to that particular brew and I am wary lest it should affect you differently. If you feel well enough, you may rise tomorrow and the talks will recommence the day after."

Legolas acquiesced, glad at the prospect of finishing the talks. The sooner they were concluded, the sooner he could return to Mirkwood's ordered life. "As you will, Lord Elrond."

The older elf smiled. "Good. Come, Berihûn, we will leave the prince in peace."

So saying, the two elves left the room, leaving Legolas with his thoughts.

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A quiet knock at the door jolted Legolas out of a light doze. Shaking his head, he rose from the bed and padded across to the door, flexing his shoulder. The wound was healing quickly and the antidote had done its work, but there was still a persistent ache.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Gilraen there. He drew himself up formally, remembering the circumstances of their last meeting. "My Lady."

Gilraen looked nervous, but she met his gaze calmly enough. "Prince Legolas, I wish to apologise for my behaviour yesterday. I was wrong and should not have spoken so harshly. I was fearful for my son and lashed out at the nearest person available, which I regret bitterly. I hope that you can forgive and forget my cruel words."

Legolas smiled gently, touched by the woman's apology. "My words were brash as well, Gilraen. It is easy to lose control of oneself in the heat of the moment and I am as guilty of this as you. Will you believe me when I say that there is nothing to forgive and accept my own apology for angry words wrongly spoken?"

Gilraen smiled back, relieved by the prince's easy acceptance. "Of course, Legolas, thank you. I hope that you and Estel can put this behind you now and become friends. My heart tells me that your paths will cross again, in something much bigger than all of us."

Legolas put his head on one side, puzzled by her words. "Perhaps. I will try, if you feel it so important."

Gilraen reached out and clasped the elf's hand. "Thank you, Legolas. Estel and I owe you a great debt. I promise you, it will not be forgotten."

With these words she hurried away, leaving behind a faintly bemused prince.

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Several days passed. The trade talks were settled to everyone's satisfaction, though Erestor could be heard to mutter that Mirkwood had undoubtedly secured the best of the deal. Both Legolas and Estel were hale and hearty, though the marks on the man's back and mind would take some time to fade away. The delay caused by the ill-fated hunting expedition meant that Legolas was still in Imladris on Estel's twentieth birthday, a day that began dully with an overcast sky.

Estel was always an early riser on his birthday, twenty years having done nothing to dim his excitement. Whistling happily, he washed and dressed quickly before heading down to the kitchens. He was disappointed to find no one else there, but shrugged and began helping himself to the warm oatmeal the cook had left on the stove.

"My, somebody's happy. Must be a special day . . ."

Estel whirled round. "_Nana_!"

Laughing, Gilraen stepped forward and hugged her son close. "Who else? Happy birthday, Estel. I cannot believe you are twenty today – why, it only seems five minutes since I was surrounded by the midwives while your father paced up and down outside. My, but he was a nervous wreck that day. I have never known him so agitated." She gazed fondly at her son, reaching up to brush away a stray lock of hair. "I wish that he could have lived to see this day."

Unsure what to say, Estel settled for giving his mother another hug. He always thought of Elrond as his father and it came as a jolt to be reminded that he had ever had another. Gilraen mentioned him infrequently and never in great detail. Estel himself had never been overly curious, preferring to live in the present rather than delving back into a forgotten past.

His train of though was disrupted by the sound of argument, always a sign that Elladan and Elrohir were approaching. Their distant voices grew in volume until finally they reached the kitchen.

"And I still maintain -" Elladan stopped abruptly as he entered the kitchen. "Estel!"

"Morning," responded the human, grinning. The twins grinned back.

"Happy birthday, Estel," they chorused. Elrohir stepped towards Estel, hands coming from behind his back to reveal a carefully wrapped gift. "In honour of this special day," he intoned solemnly and his sentiments were echoed by Elladan, who bore a similar, smaller gift.

"What is all this?" inquired a new voice behind them. "Starting the present giving without me?" Elrond had entered the kitchen, closely followed by Legolas.

"_Ada_!" Estel discarded the twins' offerings for the moment, rushing to embrace his adoptive father. Elrond gladly returned the hug, chuckling at the human's enthusiasm. "Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday, Estel," chimed in Legolas once the father and son had parted. "I hope you enjoy the day."

"Thank you, Legolas." Estel beamed at the prince.

"Estel! Are you going to open these presents or not? Elladan and I did not spend all night wrapping merely for our own enjoyment, you know." Elrohir tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

Estel laughed as he moved towards his brothers. "All night?" He began to open Elrohir's gift.

"Well, five minutes," admitted Elladan. "But you know it's the thought that counts, little brother."

"Not so little any more, you know, you ought to watch out . . ." replied Estel teasingly. He gasped as he removed the last of the colourful paper. "Elrohir, this is beautiful!" It was a short knife, stunningly made with intricate designs laid into the metal. The sharp blade gleamed as it caught the light and when Estel went to test it, it cut his thumb as cleanly and as easily as though it were slicing through hot butter.

"Ouch!" Estel sucked his thumb in annoyance, much to the twins' amusement. "That is truly incredible – thank you so much."

"We made it ourselves," said Elladan proudly. Legolas' eyes widened.

"Really? But it is superb . . . how long did it take you?"

"We have worked on it for six months," confessed Elrohir. "It was worth the effort, though."

Estel smiled, both at Elrohir's words and the thought that his brothers had crafted something that the Mirkwood elf could not. He quickly unwrapped Elladan's gift and frowned, peering at it. "Umm . . . what _is_ it?"

Luckily, Elladan did not take offence. "Sheathes, Estel, made of the toughest leather. You sew one into each pair of boots and you will find them a perfect fit for the knife. So that you always have that little extra."

Estel nodded, understanding. "That's a good idea, I will sew them in this afternoon. Thank you."

Gilraen pushed forward another present, this one much larger. "This is from me."

Estel unwrapped it carefully, sure that the soft bundle was some form of clothing. He was right, but had not been expecting the supple leather coat that emerged. He tried it on immediately and found it a perfect fit, coming down past his knees.

"It's windproof and waterproof," explained Gilraen, "just right for camping and so on. It should be difficult to tear, too, but I should imagine you'll find a way."

Estel blushed, thinking of all the clothes Gilraen had darned for him over the years. He looked towards Elrond expectantly. The elf lord shook his head.

"My present will come later." There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but as Estel was about to comment on it, Legolas cleared his throat.

"Alas, Estel, I have no physical gift for you, but I would like to offer my time, if you would accept it. Perhaps a little tuition on the archery field?"

Estel agreed with alacrity, the chance of a lesson from one of Middle-Earth's finest archers being far too good an opportunity to turn down. "That would be fantastic, Legolas. Let's hurry up and eat, we can start after breakfast."

As Elladan began ladling out oatmeal and honey to his brothers and the prince, Gilraen drew Elrond to one side.

"This afternoon, Elrond."

The elf sighed. "This afternoon, Gilraen, I swear it." He glanced over at Estel. "Just let him have this last carefree morning."

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**Chapter 12 actually won't be up until Monday. I apologise for the long wait, but I have 4 essays due in next week that I desperately need to focus on. Please keep the reviews coming and I will get the new chapter up on Monday. Thanks.**


	12. Revelations

**Disclaimer: All characters and places are property of the Tolkien estate. I am not making any money from this story.**

**There really is no apology big enough for the delay in this chapter. Real life got on top of me for a few weeks and finding the time to type was nigh-on impossible. However, this story is now all written and the next (and final) chapter will be up sometime next week. That should then be followed by another story (quick plug!) which is another repost, but one that's been heavily revamped.**

**Many thanks for your patience.**

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Estel took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. Since seeing Legolas fight the orcs, his respect for the elf had greatly increased. The idea that the prince would now be scrutinising – and most likely criticising – his archery was actually quite intimidating. Especially when Legolas still held himself at a slight distance. It seemed that the camaraderie formed between them on the trip down from the mountains was only a short-lived bond, for relations between the elf and the man were once again merely cordial.

"Is this your own bow?" asked Legolas, inspecting the weapon in question. There was a slight wrinkle on his forehead, as though what he saw did not altogether please him.

"No, it's just one from the armoury," admitted Estel, a shade defensively. "It's the bow I always use, though. I've never really needed my own bow, I prefer to use a sword."

Legolas nodded, apparently not particularly surprised. "All right then, Estel." He looked up and passed the bow to the man. "Let me see how you shoot."

"Five farthings says he hits the tree!" called out Elrohir merrily, before being shushed by his twin. The pair had sat themselves down a little distance away and were watching the proceedings with considerable interest. Legolas looked at them sharply.

"I think Estel can manage without your interjections, thank you."

Elrohir pulled a face, but obediently settled down. Estel flashed a grateful smile at the Mirkwood elf, then took another deep breath as he prepared to shoot. Feet apart, back straight, head up . . . position, draw, fire! Estel watched triumphantly as the arrow landed on the outer ring of the target. Not as good as it could be, perhaps, but by no means a bad shot. He glanced at Legolas, expecting praise. His confidence was misplaced.

"Very well, Estel, let us work out what went wrong. Show me again how you positioned your feet."

Estel stood as he had before, both feet pointing forward in an even position. "This is how I was always taught."

Legolas nodded again. "You would be. It is a popular stance for beginners, but really I would not expect it after a few lessons. It is more difficult to see the target clearly from that position and it is easy to be disrupted by high winds and so on. It is better to have your left foot pointing out slightly, like so." He moved the relevant foot to a 45º angle. "Now nock another arrow. Do you see the contrast in your sightline? That small improvement could make all the difference at a vital moment."

"I see it," agreed Estel, "but it's horribly uncomfortable holding my foot like this. It keeps creeping round again, back to how it was."

"Then you must practice," replied the elf firmly. "The more you use it, the more normal it will seem. Now, try shooting again, maintaining that stance."

The young man sighed and obeyed, taking care to keep his foot at an angle. He was rewarded with an arrow in the inner ring and could not resist smirking at his brothers, who looked astonished.

"Better," said Legolas, "but a long way from perfect. Your draw and follow through is fine, but you lack concentration and focus. You have to block out everything else around you, be entirely centred on your arrow and its target. As far as you are concerned, nothing else should exist. Can you do that?"

It sounded simple enough, if a bit intense. Legolas' eyes were boring into Estel's unsettling him. He cleared his throat and unconsciously stood a little straighter.

"Of course," he answered confidently, taking up his position again. He gazed at the target, trying not to let his mind be distracted by anything. The arrow flying true, keeping its path and landing in the dead centre; this was the only thing that occupied him, any other thoughts swept aside like so much rubbish as he drew the string back and lined up the arrow . . .

"Watch out!" Legolas' loud, panicked shout resounded painfully in Estel's ear, shattering his trance-like state. He instinctively turned towards the elf as he released the arrow and the shot went wide. A moment later a loud squawk was heard from the trees and two indignant rooks rose into the air, chattering angrily. A smattering of applause sounded and Estel turned to glare at the twins, who were almost crying with laughter.

Legolas stepped in front of the human, trying to hide his own amusement. "You see?" he chided gently. "If you had been truly focused, you would have barely registered my shout. I know it is difficult, but you absolutely must detach yourself from the rest of the world."

"Easy for you to say," muttered Estel, feeling every inch the pupil. A thought occurred to him. "What if your shout was real? I mean, if I really did have to look out? Surely then I would be in more danger if I didn't react?"

"I said barely registered, not ignored," countered Legolas. "Had you not drawn your arrow, then I would say yes, your reaction was appropriate. But at that stage of the shot, when you are on the verge of releasing the string, accuracy is the only care you have. You have never seen the chaos of a battlefield, Estel, but you will and I can tell you now that friend and foe mingle freely in the crowds, to the point where it can be impossible to distinguish the two. You are just as likely to hit one as the other and that is why, no matter how urgent or pressing the distraction may be, you can give it no heed until your shot is made. Remember, archery is a form of attack, not defence. If you are at a distance where you can shoot, you are too far away for an enemy to attack you directly. Nothing will be so life threatening as to require your immediate attention. The ability to block out superfluous thoughts is one of the essential skills for a warrior. Now, again."

The elf stood to the side after his long speech and Estel returned to his place, wondering just how Legolas had learnt to "detach himself". To talk to him, anyone would think that the prince spent most of his life in a closed-off cocoon. And as for all this business of seeing a battlefield, well. Rivendell had been peaceful for centuries and even should he ever leave this haven (which wasn't going to happen for a while, after his recent experiences), Estel would not fight in someone else's army. No, he would be free and independent, like the Rangers that sometimes visited, going his own way as he saw fit –

"Estel, have you listened to anything I said? Focus! Or are you perhaps planning to skewer a bird for tonight's dinner?" Legolas' clipped tones sounded across the field and Estel started guiltily, turning back to the task at hand. Position. Sight. Draw. Release. _Thwack_. The very edge of the centre.

"Again."

Position. Sight. Draw. Release. _Thwack_. Worse this time, further out.

"Again, quicker."

Estel groaned softly, flexing the muscles in his right hand. It looked to be a long morning.

Lunch was a pleasant affair, with Estel full of pride after having scored three bull's-eyes in a row. Legolas also seemed pleased with the morning's work and with the twins in high spirits, the wine and conversation flowed easily. The only one to dampen the mood was Gilraen, who ate quietly, reacting to the occasional anecdote with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes.

Estel kept an eye on his mother throughout the meal, wondering what could be wrong. Gilraen was generally optimistic and to see her in low spirits was rare indeed. He looked at Elrond, hoping for clues, but the serene elf Lord was giving nothing away.

Eventually the talk around the table died down, as one by one the diners declared themselves too full to eat another morsel. Legolas excused himself, murmuring something about going for a walk, while the twins cleared the plates away before disappearing in the direction of the kitchens. Estel leaned back comfortably, feeling extremely content. This sense of peace was soon replaced by one of unease as Gilraen spoke.

"Estel," she said in a low voice, "Lord Elrond and I would like to speak with you. Lord Elrond, perhaps this would be better discussed in your study?"

The elf nodded, looking grave. "Yes, I think that would be best. Estel?" He rose from the table.

Estel followed suit, nodding in slight bewilderment. _What in Arda is going on?_

The short walk to Elrond's study was made in silence. Both Gilraen and Elrond seemed reluctant to say anything until they were within the safe confines of the room. Once inside, Elrond motioned Estel to take a seat in front of the desk, before taking up his own position behind it. Gilraen took the seat next to Estel, forming a small triangle with Elrond and her son. She hesitated slightly before speaking.

"Estel, what do you know about your father? Your real father, not Elrond."

Estel looked at her for a moment, unsure of her reasoning. What was she aiming for? Cautiously, he began to recite the facts as he knew them, realising as he did so how sparse his knowledge actually was.

"Well, only what you've told me . . . that he was a carpenter, well-known and liked in the village, but that he was stricken by the plague that forced us out and led us here." He scanned his mother's face, trying to gauge her reaction. What was the purpose of this? He did not remember his father and bar a few questions born of childish curiosity, had never concerned himself with the matter.

Gilraen was leaning forward, her hands twisting together nervously. "That is not quite the truth of it, Estel. I must ask you to forgive me, for I have deliberately misled you. I only hope that you will understand my decision and how hard it was for me to make that choice." She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength.

"Your father was no carpenter, though he enjoyed it as a hobby. Why, for your first birthday he carved you a beautiful little horse, spent hours poring over every detail . . . but that is neither here nor there. What is important is that he was Lord of the Dúnedain and that his name was Arathorn. It was not a lowly plague that took him from this world, but a band of bloodthirsty orcs that no amount of skill could save him from. You are his heir, Aragorn; the blood of kings runs through your veins just as it did in his. I brought you here to keep you safe, for the Darkness is rising again and it will seek you out. But I cannot keep you hidden forever. Elrond believes that you have a great part to play in the fate of Middle Earth, though the details remain unclear. You were born to lead Mankind, Aragorn, to reclaim those rights that your ancestors lost."

Estel sat silently for a moment, trying to absorb his mother's words. "Son of Arathorn? But then, I can trace my bloodline back to Elros . . . back to Isildûr, whose weakness betrayed us all." He looked up, anger beginning to flush his cheeks. "How could you not tell me? You have lied to me, deceived me for eighteen years! How could you do that to your own son? If indeed I am your son – how can I be sure you tell the truth about _that_?"

"Stop that, Aragorn," said Elrond, intervening. "Your mother acted in your best interests and I will not have you berate her so."

"My name is Estel," replied the young man stubbornly, but Elrond was already shaking his head.

"I gave you the name Estel when you arrived, for you will be Man's hope in dark times to come. But your birth name, by which you will henceforth be known, is Aragorn son of Arathorn."

Estel turned again to his mother, paying no regard to the tears welling in her eyes. "How many others know? Who else has been laughing at me for all these years, taking me for a fool? Do the twins know?"

Elrond answered. "Elladan and Elrohir were good friends of your father's. They were with him in his last moments and you cannot yet know how much hurt his loss caused them." He smiled sadly. "They see much of him in you."

This last revelation cut deeply. Estel trusted his brothers completely and to think that they were part of this great conspiracy upset him greatly. He stood up abruptly. "I don't want to continue this talk," he announced angrily, unshed tears roughening his voice. "How can I believe anything you tell me now? It could all be another pack of lies for all I know!"

Gilraen stood as well, crying openly now. "Do not speak so, Aragorn, I beg of you. Please, I only did what I thought was right!"

Elrond rose calmly to his feet, eyes fixed on Estel. "Hush, Aragorn. What is done is done; you only disgrace yourself by acting like this. You must accept who you are and grow to take pride in it. I had hoped for a more receptive environment in which to give you your presents, but as it is . . ." He began to unwrap the oilcloth from a parcel that Estel had not even noticed was on the desk. Inside lay an ornate ring and fragments of a shattered sword.

"Here is the ring of Barahir," intoned Elrond, "the token of our kinship from afar; and here also are the shards of Narsil. With these you may still do great deeds; for I foretell that the span of your life shall be greater than the measure of men, unless evil befalls you or you fail at the test. But the test will be hard and long."

"I do not want it," scowled Estel. "You cannot tell me my life is a lie and pretend that everything is fine! I want no part of your test, nor your destiny – I know who I am and it is nothing to do with kings or leaders."

"You are mistaken," snapped Elrond. "I gave you a new name, but that cannot change who you are, any more than the sun would dim its light if we called it the moon. This is your ancestry, this is your heritage."

Estel turned on his heel, trying not to look at his treacherous mother. "I have said no, _Lord_ Elrond." He stalked out of the room and down the corridor, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the twins.

"And you two! As deceitful as them!" Estel could still not quite believe that everyone he knew had been lying to him all his life.

The twins knew what must have happened and they were quick to react, Elladan offering a placating hand to the young man. "Estel, we acted in your best interests -"

"By lying to me?" asked Estel incredulously. "What would you do if you'd been trying to hurt me? No!" - as Elrohir moved forward – "Don't touch me. I want to be alone." He took off down the corridor, leaving the twins behind to listen to Gilraen's muffled sobs.

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**Please review – final chapter will be posted next week.**


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